


Mistletoe

by Snailhair



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Dickie being cute, Fluff, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Humor, M/M, Mistletoe, Moose, Quilt, Sabriel - Freeform, Secret Santa, Snow, happy feels, hilarious scenario, hints of destiel - Freeform, lots of kisses, lots of random people - Freeform, warm and fuzzy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snailhair/pseuds/Snailhair
Summary: Sam wakes up on Christmas Eve to find a Mistletoe hanging over his head... and it refuses to leave. While struggling to deal with the effects of his holiday burden, Sam - with help from Dean and Castiel - tries to follow the instructions given to him from his 'Secret Santa' in order to get rid of it before Christmas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! :) As you can see, this fic is based all around Christmas! (And Sabriel, of course.) ;) I know it's the middle of summer right now, but hopefully you all will enjoy the taste of Christmas in July. Lol. ;D This particular story is one of the funniest ones I've got in my arsenal and I really hope that it makes you smile and laugh a lot. Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting on my stories! I love you so much! :)

_It's the most wonderful time of the year..._

Sam's eyes fluttered open at the startling sound of loud trumpets and joyous singing. He was laying in yet another random motel bed, wearing the same clothes he had on the day before. And now, thanks to that terrible melody playing in his ear, Sam was fully awake. Restful sleep had been stolen from him in the form of annoying Christmas music.

_It's the hap-happiest season of all... With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings..._

Oh, God. If he had to listen to one more verse about Christmas happiness, Sam was gonna puke. Though he was still in the process of waking up, the man rolled over and slapped his hand around on the table beside him, lazily searching for the snooze button on the clock radio. Once he found it, the music cut short, leaving the room as silent as before. But unfortunately, the Christmas music had already done its job. Sam was now wide awake and fully aware of the time and the day.

It was 9 a.m. On Christmas eve.

A large yawn escaped Sam's mouth as he raised to sit up and glanced toward the bed across the room. Dean was conked out on the mattress a few feet away, like the music didn't bother him at all. He was still snoring quietly with his limbs tossed carelessly around him. Sam rolled his eyes a bit at the sight of his older brother drooling on a pillow. Apparently, the Jack and Coke that Dean ordered at the restaurant last night consisted of a lot more Jack than Coke...

Feeling the urge to pee, Sam rolled wearily out of bed and shuffled over to the bathroom. He was scratching his messed head of hair on the way; yawning again and glancing over to see that snow was falling outside the motel window. The glass was fogged on the inside and the white flakes were piling up on the crystal pane.

Ah, yes, Christmas was definitely on its way, bringing those good ol' yuletide feelings with it – and the thought made Sam sick with aggravation. This time of year always sucked for the Winchesters. Not just because they couldn't afford decent gifts for each other or because the snow made driving difficult in rural areas. Sam mostly didn't like Christmas because it was the one time of year that he couldn't avoid thinking about everyone he had lost. His mom, his dad, Jessica... All of them came to mind whenever the cheery music came on the radio and snow started drifting from the sky. Family-oriented holidays always pained him so much, and Christmas was the worst...

But Sam was determined to avoid all of that Christmas shit this year. He and Dean had already agreed not to even talk about it. No gifts, no songs, no stupid decorations or trees. They were just going to treat December 25th like a regular day. And so far, it looked like they were going to succeed. Christmas was going to be over in about 48 hours and they had done a marvelous job of ignoring it so far.

Sam finished the journey into the bathroom, where he went about draining his bladder. He flushed the toilet after he was done and wandered over to the sink to wash his hands and brush his teeth. The dim bathroom light was on, which allowed him to see his own sleepy reflection in the mirror – and the small bunch of leaves dangling near his forehead.

Sam had to double-take at the mirror in front of him as he carefully turned off the water. He blinked repeatedly at the tiny bundle of green leaves in his reflection, feeling so confused. What the hell was that? It looked like a small piece of a houseplant just hanging in the air a few inches above his head. At first, Sam thought that he was looking at a sticker that someone had left on the mirror. He thought that the leaves were stationary, stuck on the glass and made to look like a decoration. But no. When Sam raised his head to see it better, _the leaves moved with him_.

Sam's eyes instantly flickered away from the mirror and up toward the ceiling to see the bundle of green foliage hovering over his head. It was positioned at least five inches above him and seven inches in front of him. And whenever _he_ moved, the _leaves_ moved too. Sam tried leaning away from the thing, dipping quickly toward the right, but the leaves followed him, flying around as if it had freewill.

“ _What the hell_ ,” Sam muttered under his breath, feeling confused and uncomfortable.

Since it looked like he wouldn't be able to move away from the leaves, Sam tried swatting at them instead. The man reached up to swing at the thing a few times, trying to get it to fall down or disappear or something. But the tiny plant just wouldn't _go away_. It kept dodging Sam's fingers, jetting out of his reach only to come back to its original resting place over his head. Sam glared up at the stubborn leaves, feeling anxious and confused. Why the hell was this thing hanging over him?! Where did it come from?! And why wouldn't it go away?!

“Dean,” Sam called, staggering quickly out of the bathroom, “Dean, wake up.”

The younger Winchester stumbled over his sleeping brother and shook his shoulder a few times in an effort to wake him out of his hangover. Sam was keeping one eye on the foreign object above him and one eye on Dean, glancing back and forth between them when Dean finally started to wake up. The older brother grumbled a little and pushed at Sam's hand.

“Mmph, lemme sleep,” Dean mumbled, rolling his head away.

“No, Dean, you've gotta wake up and see this,” Sam argued, “Look!”

Although he huffed a breath of annoyance and gave a long yawn of exhaustion, Dean eventually blinked his eyes open and looked toward Sam. Once his brother was looking at him, Sam instantly pointed toward the group of leaves above him.

“This thing is following me,” he explained, moving around to show Dean, “See?! Look, it's floating around my head and it won't go away!”

Dean squinted his sleepy eyes as if he was studying the object over Sam's head. It seemed like he was just as confused by it as Sam was, like he thought he was dreaming it up or something.

“What the hell is that thing?” the older brother asked, voice low and gravelly.

“I don't know,” Sam admitted, “It looks like some kind of plant.”

“Ha. Way to go, Sammy,” Dean scoffed, shaking his head, “You've eaten so much salad that it's starting to orbit around your giant head, now.”

“Dean, it's not funny,” the younger brother growled, “I don't know what this is and it's following me around. We have to get rid of it.”

“Well, smack the damn thing down then,” Dean suggested as he sat up to toss his legs over the side of the bed.

“I've already tried that,” Sam informed, “It just moves out of the way. See?”

Dean was watching when Sam tried to swat at the leaves. The green bunch only danced around his fingers again, swiftly dodging his frail attempts to harm it. After witnessing the self-sustaining actions of the flying houseplant stem, Dean actually rose to his feet. He was staring hard at the thing over Sam's forehead, scratching his own messy hair and resting a free hand on his hip.

“What the hell,” he mumbled again, “Where did that come from?”

“I don't know,” Sam breathed, feeling exasperated, “I just woke up and it was there.”

“Huh. It looks like a...” Dean's voice trailed off like he didn't want to finish his sentence.

“What? Looks like a what?” Sam blurted, wanting to know.

“Well,” the older brother started again, “It looks like one of those Christmas things. You know, people hang it up and kiss under it? Mistletoe or whatever.”

Sam's large eyes darted back up to the plant over his own head, seeing the tiny white and red baubles hidden around the leaves. Mistletoe? Why the absolute hell was Mistletoe loitering around Sam? How did it get up there?

“But... Why is it following me?” Sam breathed, staring at it from below.

“Maybe a witch put a spell on you,” Dean suggested, sounding serious, “And if that's the case, we're gonna need to find her and get her to say the counter -”

A few heavy knocks came from the motel door, startling both Winchesters out of their conversation. Sam and Dean both jumped a little and turned to look at the door across the room, each reaching for the nearest weapon. Dean grabbed the pistol out from under his pillow while Sam quickly reached over and got the handgun from the bedside table. It was simply in their nature to be cautious, especially if something weird was going on. Like being followed by random plants...

“Who is it?” Dean asked loudly, his tone low and threatening.

“I – I'm a housekeeper here,” a timid female voice replied from the other side, “I was, um, told to give this card to the guy staying in this room.”

The Winchesters both gave each other looks of hesitance, silently stating that they were both suspicious of the girl at the door. The older brother motioned for the younger to follow as he hid his weapon behind his back and edged over to the door. Sam kept his own gun out of sight too, as he walked up to stand behind Dean. Both of them braced themselves and Dean quickly opened the door.

The girl outside seemed very young and shy. Both of her hands were in the pockets of her big puffy coat and her feet were shifting around a little. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her straight platinum hair was swaying around with the snowy breeze. Sam eyed her bashful features as she briefly glanced up at Dean. Sam remained a few feet behind Dean, not wanting the girl to see the odd Christmas decoration dangling over his head.

“Is... Is Sam here?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, he is,” Dean answered, even though he kept Sam hidden from her.

“Oh. Well, um, here you go,” she answered, pulling out a small envelope from her pocket.

Sam's eyes narrowed at the white envelope that had his name written on it as it moved from the girl's hand and into Dean's. Who would give him a card? Was it a Christmas card from Bobby or something? No, Bobby never did things like that. Was it from the same person responsible for this damn mistletoe thing? After realizing that the card might be connected to the mistletoe, Sam couldn't help but inch his way around Dean. The tallest man fully met eyes with the girl outside, wanting honest information.

“Do you know who left it for me?” Sam asked, hoping the card was from someone he knew.

As soon as the girl caught sight of Sam – as soon as she saw _the mistletoe_ – something seemed to change in her demeanor. She was no longer bashful and timid, but suddenly lively and happy instead, like a switch had flipped inside her personality. A massive, bubbly smile burst across her face and her eyes twinkled with delight as she giggled a bit and pointed at the leaves hanging over Sam's head.

“ _Mistletoe,_ ” she cooed.

Before Sam knew it, the girl quickly jutted up to plant her lips firmly on his own. The youngest Winchester blinked several times, feeling slightly dazed. Holy shit! He was suddenly in the middle of a kiss! A kiss that he never asked for! Once he felt his stomach churning with discomfort, Sam gently shook himself free of the girl's embrace. Of course, Sam didn't mind kissing girls, but this person was a complete stranger! Who the hell would walk up to a stranger and flat out kiss them on the mouth?! Sam felt strangely violated and wiped his lips as soon as she stepped away. Her smile, though, never dimmed.

“Merry Christmas, Sam,” the girl called before dashing down the snowy sidewalk.

Sam could feel heat burning on his face when looked down to see Dean staring at him. The guy seemed both shocked and amused by what had just happened. He was obviously trying to hold down a bit of laughter, like Sam's entire morning of weirdness had been one giant joke to him. The jerk...

“Mmm,” Dean smirked, “maybe that mistletoe isn't so bad after all, huh?”

“It's not funny,” Sam spat for the second time.

Dean chuckled at the sound of pure bitterness in Sam's voice, as if Sam's anger only made it funnier. But thankfully, his laughter stopped and he held up the card between them. They were still standing in the open doorway of their motel room and the chilly breeze was whipping around outside when Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“Do you want _me_ to open it, Sam? You never know. You might turn into the Easter Bunny if you read it,” Dean grinned, obliviously poking fun at Sam's predicament.

“Gimme that,” Sam snapped, yanking the card out of his brother's hand.

Trying his best to ignore Dean's childish grin, Sam quickly and carefully opened the white envelope addressed to him. He pulled out what looked to be a Christmas card. A cartoon picture was on the front of Santa feeding Rudolph a couple of carrots. Sam only glanced over the front though, because he was too eager to open it and see the message. There was a lengthy handwritten paragraph etched on the inside of the card. Dean was leaning close to Sam's side and both brothers instantly began reading the words at the same time.

_Dear Sammy,_

_There's nothing quite like the unbridled joy of standing under the mistletoe on Christmas eve. And this year, I wanted to give you your own slice of joy to carry around. How are you liking it so far? It's pretty cool, right? ;) As much as I want you to have the merriest Christmas ever, I know that you have a tenancy to be a humbug. If you really want to be a Grinch – like you always are this time of year - and you want get rid of my lovely gift, then here's what you'll need to do: Get the three things listed on the back of this card and meet me at Rockefeller Center before midnight. (Yes. The one in New York City.) Then, and only then, will I consider taking my gift back. I hope you see lots and lots of people today and spread around the Christmas cheer!_

_Lots of kisses,_

_Your sexy – I mean, secret – Santa_

_P.S. When in doubt, follow the dog._

Sam read the letter at lightening fast speed and had to stop to read it again out of sheer bewilderment. Questions started swirling angrily in his mind like snowflakes in a blizzard. The mistletoe was _a gift_? And if Sam wanted to get rid of it, he had to get a bunch of shit and take it to _Rockefeller Center_? Before _midnight_? Who the hell was this 'secret Santa'?! And how did they know that Sam hated Christmas?! Dean reached out and plucked the card from Sam's hand to stare down at it with scrunched eyebrows.

“Follow the dog?” the older brother asked, sounding confused, “What dog?”

After Dean's question, a loud car horn beeped near them. The Winchesters both jumped at the sound, spinning to look out into the snow toward the parking lot. The horn kept beeping in a steady rhythm, like an alarm was going off. But Sam knew for a fact that it couldn't have been an alarm because it was coming from the Impala. Apparently, Dean could tell that it was coming from their car too, because he was suddenly walking out into the snowy breeze; tucking his gun into his waistband and heading straight for the black vehicle across from their room.

Sam, on the other hand, hesitated in the doorway for a second. The mistletoe was still hovering over his head and he didn't want anyone to see it. Sam sort of felt like a circus freak; a weirdo with a strange Christmas appendage jutting out from his head that people would pay to see. But after glancing down at the card that was still in Dean's hand, Sam forced himself to go outside. Christmas crisis or no, Sam had to find out who was honking the horn inside the Impala.

Dean made it to the car first, of course, and paused to stare through the windshield for a second, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Sam caught up to the car in the parking lot and was finally able to understand his brother's reaction. There was a dog inside the Impala. A small dog – probably a Jack Russell Terrier, going by its shape and size – and there was a large red ribbon wrapped around its neck in place of a collar. But that wasn't the strangest part. No, the weirdest part of all was that the dog was humping the steering wheel. It was literally thrusting against the middle of it, making the horn go _Beep! Beep! Beep!_ Sam's face contorted with total disgust. He knew that this must have been the dog that his secret Santa was referring to. But man, the card never said anything about the dog being a pervert...

Dean instantly lunged forward and ripped open the driver's side door. His face was red hot with anger when he leaned in to yell at the animal.

“Hey! Knock it off!” he shouted, reaching in to shove the dog off the steering wheel.

Luckily, the dog fell away from the horn, which made the erratic beeping stop. The tiny Jack Russell Terrier rolled over in the front seat before racing over to jump out of the car. He pranced over to Sam in the snowy parking lot and jumped up and down in front of him, pawing at his long legs like the dog wanted to be held. Though Sam had been having a terrible and awkward morning, he had to admit that he enjoyed being in the presence of a dog. Sam always had a soft spot for warm fur and wagging tails.

“Uh, hey there,” Sam said, kneeling down to pet the little guy.

The dog instantly nuzzled closer to Sam, which allowed the man to have a better look at his Christmas collar. The red ribbon was tied off with a large bow on the left side and the name 'Dickie' was printed in golden ink around the band. Sam smiled a little at the sight and couldn't help but realize how cute it was.

“Dickie?” Sam asked, hoping to get a response.

The dog barked a few times like he was trying to reply. Apparently, the little guy's name really was Dickie. And it seemed to fit him perfectly, because he was sniffing around the front tire of the Impala like he was getting ready to mount it and give it hell.

“How did that thing get in the car?” Dean asked, shutting the car door and crossing his arms.

Sam raised back up to stand and was about to give some kind of answer to his brother when he caught sight of a few people walking by. It was a couple – a man and a woman dressed in warm clothes – who seemed to be crossing the parking lot on their way to their own car. Sam instantly tilted his head down, not wanting them to see the weird leafy growth he had above him. But unfortunately, they spotted it anyway. Sam could see their eyes light up from a feet few away and heat rose on his cheeks instantly. Oh, no. They were going to laugh at him, weren't they? The couple stepped a little closer to Sam in the parking lot, both smiling and pointing upward.

“ _Mistletoe_ ,” the woman mused, seeming excited.

Sam was about to offer an explanation for why the leaves were hovering in midair and following him around, but he didn't get to. Because the woman was suddenly craning her neck to kiss him. For the second time that morning, Sam found himself inside a kiss he wanted no part of. The woman gently pecked his lips with her own before stepping back. Once again, Sam wiped his own mouth, feeling violated. Ugh, why did she do that? Didn't she care that her spouse was standing right next to her?! Just as Sam thought this, however, the man took a step forward. His eyes were bright and there was a genuine smile on his face. He pointed up at the greenery overhead too, just like his girlfriend did before.

“ _Mistletoe_ ,” he grinned.

Blood seemed to drain from Sam's face as he watched the man lean forward. Oh, shit! _The guy_ was leaning forward to kiss him! _A man_! Before Sam could even think of trying to fight against it, he found himself sharing a lip-lock with a dude. It only lasted a few seconds, but for Sam, it felt like an eternity. The man's faint mustache was ticking Sam's upper lip and the masculine scent of aftershave was thick in the air. Ugh! It was so _weird_! What the hell?!

As soon as Sam's shock and disgust wore off, he quickly shook himself free of the kiss and stumbled back to cover his own mouth protectively. Sam gave the man a bizarre glare, hoping that the dude would see how pissed off he was about being kissed, but the guy remained just as happy as before. He and his girlfriend promptly gave Sam a few waves before starting backing away.

“Merry Christmas, Sam!” they called in unison, finally leaving.

Sam furiously rubbed his own violated lips as he watched the couple go. How did they know his name? Ugh, and why did they _both_ kiss him?! Sam's glare flickered accusingly toward the green leaves overhead. It was like the mistletoe was doing something to everyone; like looking at the green leaves hypnotized people and made them want to kiss Sam. Was that it? Was that the reason Sam had received so many unwelcome kisses today?

Dean, who hadn't lifted a single finger to defend his brother from flirty strangers, was standing nearby with a red face. He was struggling to maintain a calm composure even though he was obviously wanting to burst out laughing. He was biting down a grin and snickering under his breath, trying to mask it with his hand. Sam gave him a fierce glare, huffing loudly with rage. Dean's reaction wasn't making him feel any better.

“It's not funny, Dean!” the younger brother shouted for the third time, his voice echoing around the parking lot.

Dean laughed out loud anyway, literally doubling over and having to wipe the moisture from his eyes. He was waving a hand toward the leaves over Sam's head while he chuckled, seeming so damn amused. But eventually, his stupid laughter drew to a stop and he was able to form coherent words.

“This... This is the greatest prank ever,” Dean wheezed, his voice high with humor, “But who would do this to you, Sam?”

After he heard Dean's musing question, an epiphany struck Sam like lightening. Sam had already been 'pranked' like this before. He had been victimized – not just once, but _twice –_ by the same person, with the familiar use of annoying songs, forced humiliation, and potent discomfort. Sam had suffered through irritating traumas before, just like this one, and it had all been because of one man. Because of one _archangel_...

“The trickster...” Sam breathed, glaring at the mistletoe over his head, “It has be the trickster.”


	2. Chapter 2

“The trickster?” Dean repeated, his tone and expression both full of skepticism, “You mean Gabriel? The archangel?”

“Yes,” Sam nodded, making the mistletoe rock back and forth above his head, “It's him. It has to be.”

The Winchester brothers were still standing near their Impala while snow softly drifted down around them, trying to figure out who the hell was responsible for the Christmas appendage over Sam's head. And Sam was firm in his belief. He was sure that this damn 'mistletoe' thing was the trickster's doing. He knew that his 'secret Santa' was actually just Gabriel the archangel hiding behind a Christmas pen name. Sam could feel deep down in the pit of his soul that Gabriel was the one who deserved all the credit for this. There was just one tiny little hiccup in Sam's assumption, though...

“Gabriel is dead, Sam,” Dean reminded, “Cas told us that Lucifer killed him, remember? The trickster can't be behind this. He was stabbed with an angel blade.”

Sam shifted around with discomfort in the snow for a second, letting his eyes briefly glance toward the sky and to the dog roaming near the front tire. Yeah, he knew that Lucifer stabbed Gabriel right after that whole 'Pagan God' meeting or whatever. And – though he would never ever admit it out loud – thinking about Gabriel's death always made Sam sad for some reason. But it didn't matter whether Lucifer had stabbed Gabriel or not. Sam trusted his instincts. And right now, his instincts were telling him that it was the trickster.

“What if he's not dead?” Sam challenged, his eyebrow raising, “What if his 'death' was another trick and he's actually been alive somewhere just waiting to prank me one last time?”

Sam could see the concern in his brother's eyes. Dean was looking at Sam with a mixture of disapproval and pity, as if he thought Sam was talking like a crazy person. But Sam knew he was right, dammit! So what, if the angels thought Gabriel was dead? He could be tricking them, too. Being inside one of the trickster's pranks was something that couldn't be duplicated. Nobody else could make Sam feel as weird and uncomfortable as the trickster could. _Nobody_.

“ _Mistletoe_ ,” a deep, booming voice called.

Sam and Dean flinched out of their conversation and glanced toward the starling sound. A large, plump man – who seemed to have been just walking by on the way to his car – had spotted Sam and was now sprinting across the parking lot and puckering his large lips. Sam tried his best to brace himself, to turn around, or put his hands up for defense, or run for his life. But the fat man was, surprisingly, too fast for him. The guy eagerly yanked Sam down into a quick kiss, smearing moisture all over Sam's closed mouth, before letting go to dash away.

“Merry Christmas, Sam,” the fat guy chorused, dancing away with a grin.

Once again, Sam was left to wipe his own mouth furiously and glare at a random stranger. Ugh! God, he _hated_ that! Ew, kissing a guy was so _gross_! Dean, of course, was snickering again, chuckling quietly near the Impala and trying to hide his grin with his hand.

“I never knew you liked 'em big and jolly, Sammy,” the older brother mused, seeming so delighted with himself, “If I had known that, I would have taken you to sit on Santa's lap more often.”

Sam felt a strong urge to walk over and punch Dean in the dick. To make him double over in pain and share in the discomfort. But Sam retrained himself from doing so, mostly because he knew it wouldn't do much good. Besides, Sam had more important things to do. Like get rid of this stupid Christmas curse before it caused him to kiss an entire football team of men against his will.

“We need to get rid of this thing,” the younger brother stated, looking back up at the mistletoe, “This stupid plant has got to come down.”

“What makes you so sure that it's the plant, Sam?” Dean asked, sounding genuine for once, “What if it's just you that everyone loves?”

“The mistletoe has to be enchanted, Dean. Remember that girl who gave us the card? She didn't want to kiss me until she saw the mistletoe,” Sam pointed out.

“So?” Dean spat, shrugging, “I've looked at those leaves all morning and I don't want to make out with you.”

Sam's eyes narrowed at the plant overhead. Dean had a good point. Why was it working on strangers and not Dean? Sam was very glad that it wasn't effecting Dean, of course, but it made him curious. What exactly was it about the mistletoe that made people want to kiss Sam? Did they have to see it first? Did they have to be within a certain distance of him for it to work? If so, did Sam need to be kept in captivity until they found a way to get rid of it?

“We need to figure out a perimeter,” Sam mumbled, “and see what causes the change in people.”

“Then maybe we need to do a little experiment,” Dean suggested, grinning.

Just by the look of mischievousness on his older brother's face, Sam knew that Dean was thinking of something terrible; something humiliating that would make Sam's day a million times worse.

“What experiment?” Sam forced out through clinched teeth.

“Dude. Isn't it obvious?” Dean said, leaning back against the Impala, “We need a guinea pig. Someone to walk toward you and see what happens.”

“A guinea pig? Like, some random girl?” Sam said, kind of put off by the thought.

Dean's grin widened a bit and his eyes lit up with cruel humor.

“Actually, I was thinking of someone a bit more familiar. Like Cas,” he smirked.

Almost as soon as the word 'Cas' escaped Dean's mouth, the angel appeared a few feet away. He popped out of nowhere like he always did, still wearing his usual trench coat, suit, tie, and bland expression. His sudden appearance made Sam nearly jump out of his own shoes. Geez, why did Cas always have to scare the shit out of everyone like that? Dean stood up a little straighter too, still wearing his grin.

“Hello, Dean,” the angel muttered lowly, looking toward the older brother only.

As soon as Sam's mind caught up with his vision, he slowly realized what was going on. Oh, no. _Cas_ was supposed to be the guinea pig! Dean wanted to see if the mistletoe was going to work on _Cas_! Oh, God, that meant that Cas might _kiss_ him! Ew, _no_! Sam was already backing up slowly, hoping that Cas wouldn't look over and see the mistletoe hanging over his head. Dean's grin was full of childish spite when he reached over and placed a hand on Cas's shoulder.

“Hey, Cas,” the oldest Winchester sang, “Sam has been dying to say hi to you all morning. Why don't you go over and wish him a merry Christmas?”

As Dean was saying the last few words of his sentence, he deliberately shoved Castiel toward Sam, making the angel stumble forward into the path of the mistletoe. Sam instantly closed his eyes and cringed, fearing that Cas was about to say ' _mistletoe_ ' and give him a big kiss – but it never happened.

After a few seconds of silence, Sam eventually blinked his eyes open to see Cas again. The angel was standing directly in front of Sam now, under the green leaves. But luckily, Cas seemed to be unaffected by it. He seemed to be just as immune to the curse as Dean. The angel was understandably confused, though. His blue eyes looked up at Sam with honest bewilderment and shrugged a little.

“Um... Merry Christmas, Sam..?” Cas offered, sounding lost.

Sam took an actual breath of relief before shooting Dean a glare. Geez, that was a close call! Dean was such an asshole! Cas could have kissed Sam, for God's sake! Dean looked kind of disappointed when he glanced between Cas and the mistletoe. The older brother stood up from the Impala and started walking closer with his arms folded across his chest.

“Huh,” Dean scoffed, seeming perplexed, “Maybe it doesn't work on angels. Or people you already know. Maybe it only works on..."

About the time Dean wandered over to stand next to Cas, his voice started trailing off. His green eyes widened and twinkled a bit, his arms carefully lowered, and his head slowly began to turn toward Cas. In fact, Cas's head was slowly turning to meet Dean's, too. Dean and Cas were both facing each other, wearing the same meaningful expression and searching one another with glimmering eyes. And they were both standing directly underneath the mistletoe...

“Uh... Guys?” Sam asked, feeling his own eyebrows scrunch with worry.

Before Sam could do anything, Dean and Castiel both lunged forward, reaching out to grab each other and smash their lips together. They didn't hold back at all. Dean and Cas were kissing like star-crossed lovers, practically swallowing each others' tongues. Sam was frozen for a second, unable to look away from his brother and an angel furiously kissing one another right in front of him. Holy shit, it was so _weird_! Thankfully, Sam regained enough motor function to back up, which pulled the mistletoe out of their reach.

Once they were free of the mistletoe, Dean and Cas instantly plucked their mouths away from each other. Shock and horror fell over both of their expressions when they opened their eyes to look at one another. Sam just glanced between them, feeling secretly smug. Ha! Dean had finally gotten a taste of what Sam was going through. And Dean was obviously disturbed by it. He unwound his hands from around Cas and took a cautious step back, hands in the air and mouth hanging open. His wide eyes eventually looked back at Sam with total seriousness.

“ _We have to get rid of that thing_!” Dean wheezed, his mouth still glistening with Cas's saliva.

Sam gave a single hard chuckle at the desperation in his brother's voice. Of course Dean would only want to get rid of it _now_ , only _after_ it had caused him to scrub the inside of Cas's mouth with his tongue. Cas's face was bright pink and he was gently touching his own lips, apparently shocked by what had just happened. And Sam found it all to be quite hilarious. It was about time that Dean shared in the 'holiday spirit.'

“Not so funny anymore, is it, Dean?” Sam smirked, lifting a brow.

Dean didn't reply to Sam's sarcastic tone. Instead, the older brother was reaching over to the hood of the Impala, where he placed the card from Sam's Secret Santa. Dean opened the card again and glanced at the inside before flipping it over. He seemed bound and determined to follow the instructions on how to get rid of Sam's mistletoe.

“We need to get the shit on this list. The first thing we need is a quilt,” Dean informed.

“Quilt?” Sam repeated, “You mean, like a blanket?”

Instead of answering the question, Dean thrust the card into Sam's hand. Sammy took the time to straighten out the slightly crumpled card before looking down to see the handwritten script on the back. The very first item on the list read:

_1) The Serenity Quilt, hanging up in the Elder Beaver Hunting Lodge._

“Elder Beaver Hunting Lodge?” Sam mumbled out loud, feeling confused, “I've never even heard of that place.”

The only reply that Sam received from his statement was a bark from the dog. Sam's eyes dropped to the snow-covered ground where the little Jack Russell Terrier was jumping up and down and yipping with excitement, acting like he just heard a command. Once Sam's eyes were on him, Dickie started dashing across the parking lot, headed toward the street. The sight of Dickie's furry butt disappearing into the snow made Sam remember the P.S from his card. _When in doubt, follow the dog_.

“Come on, guys. We need to follow the dog,” Sam said, running after him.

Dean and Cas – who were both still refusing to even look toward each other out of sheer embarrassment from their steamy kiss – instantly joined Sam in chasing down the K9. Dickie zig-zagged his way through the cars in the parking lot before trotting down the sidewalk on the other side, heading toward the busy part of town. Luckily, the dog's pace remained slow enough that Sam's long legs could keep up. Sam sure as hell wasn't going to lose the dog now, not when that furball was his ticket out of Christmas hell.

Of course, when they made it to a larger portion of town – the busy part, where buildings grew taller and stoplights were closer together – more and more people were occupying the sidewalks. And even though Sam tried his best to keep his head down and slip passed unnoticed, the man still ended up receiving a few more unwanted smooches. A large cluster of women, a mailman, another young couple, two policemen – they all cried ' _mistletoe_ ' when Sam walked by and yanked him down into fresh kisses. With each new lip-lock, Sam's anger was rising. Argh, he was going to kill the trickster for this! Who the hell gave an enchanted mistletoe as a present?! Why couldn't Gabriel just get him a pair of socks like a normal person?!

By the time Sam caught up with Dickie, his face was covered in lipstick and he smelled like several different kinds of perfume. The dog had stopped to sniff around a set of wooden stairs, which gave Sam enough time to look up and see where they were. The building in front of them was made to look like a cabin, walls made of large oak wood planks, with wide windows and a smoking chimney. Christmas decorations were all over the place, too; strings of flashing lights, a group of friendly looking snowmen, a plastic Santa with all his reindeer in a row. And thankfully, there was a wooden sign planted on the lawn as well that read: _Elder Beaver Hunting Lodge_.

“Son of a bitch,” Sam mumbled in shock.

Dean and Cas finally caught up to Sam, where they both stopped next to him. Dean was out of breath from running and still a little flustered. Cas was breathing normally but his face was red, probably from lingering embarrassment. Sam glanced between them, watching Dean shake his head and point at the Christmas decorations next to them.

“Your Secret Santa has the weirdest dog ever,” Dean mentioned.

Sam followed his brother's line of sight to see Dickie up on his hind legs again. The dog was humping the shit out of one of the plastic reindeer in the far corner of the snow-covered lawn. Dickie was thrusting against it with so much force that he actually knocked the poor reindeer over into the snow and kept going. Sam couldn't help but agree with Dean's statement. If his Secret Santa really was the trickster – which Sam firmly believed with his entire being – then it was perfectly fitting for his dog to be a pervert.

“Secret Santa?” Cas asked, still looking bewildered.

It seemed like the angel was absolutely confused by what was going on. Dean huffed a breath of aggravation before turning to face Cas again and give him a brief over-view of the situation.

“Sam woke up with that damn mistletoe this morning,” he quickly explained, “and we don't know who put it there -”

“It was Gabriel, Dean,” Sam jumped in to add, stepping closer.

“- and it makes everyone want to kiss him,” Dean went on, ignoring Sam's interruption and staring hard at Cas, “You know, except for... y – you and me... because it... it makes _us_ want to... to...”

Sam's eyes narrowed at his older brother, seeing him lean toward Cas. Why the hell were his eyes turning all 'goo-goo' again? Why was he staring at Cas like the angel was a huge slice of pie? And why was Cas reaching out to clutch the front of Dean's jacket? It wasn't until Dean and Cas's mouths met for the second time that Sam realized he was standing too close to them. His mistletoe was hanging over their heads yet again, giving them the urge to make out right in front of him.

When Cas and Dean started humming those ' _mmm_ ' noises behind their joined mouths, Sam instantly took a few steps back, pulling the mistletoe out of their range. Just like before, Dean and Cas instantly let go of one another, eyes wide and faces red with embarrassment. Cas rocked back on his heels, looking away and scratching his head with discomfort. In the meantime, Dean reached up to cover his own mouth with shock before whipping around to glare at his little brother.

“Dammit, Sam!” Dean lowered his hand to growl, “Keep that thing away from us! Personal space, man! _Personal space_!”

“I'm sorry!” Sam said, trying his best to hold down a smile, “It's not _my_ fault! If you want to blame someone, blame Gabriel!”

“Gabriel?” Cas asked, his blue eyes darting up to narrow at Sam, “You mean, my brother?”

“Yes,” Sam nodded, making the mistletoe move over his head, “He's the one doing this, Cas. He's the one responsible for all the kissing.”

Cas's face fell a bit before he shook his head back and forth with pity.

“Gabriel is dead, Sam. This cannot be his doing,” the angel said, repeating Dean's exact words from earlier.

Cas's statement made another wave of discomfort flicker through Sam's chest. Why did it hurt so much to hear people talk about Gabriel like that? Just thinking about his 'death' made Sam feel so upset. But even as he felt the tiny the ache in his ribcage, Sam shook his head. So what, if Cas thought the guy was dead? So what, if no one believed Sam? Sammy knew in his heart that the trickster was behind this Christmas catastrophe. There was no one else it could be.

“I don't think he's dead, Cas,” Sam said carefully, “I think he's out there somewhere, sipping eggnog from a wine glass and watching all of this with a smirk on his face.”

“Get a grip, Sam. Dead guys can't pull pranks,” Dean mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Although Dean was still firmly against the idea, Sam could see the cogs turning in Cas's eyes. The angel was glancing between the Winchesters and the mistletoe, studying everything with narrowed, wondrous eyes. Sam truly hoped that Cas would join his side; that the angel would agree that Gabriel probably wasn't really dead and that it was all the trickster's fault.

“It... it does appear to be celestial,” Cas commented quietly, staring at the mistletoe, “Perhaps I could try to track the source for you.”

“Really?” Sam breathed.

“Yes,” Cas nodded, flashing a shy glance at Dean, “Both of you should keep following the instructions just in case our assumption turns out to be wrong. As soon as I gather more information, I will return to you with my findings.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Dean mumbled, awkwardly reaching up to pat the angel's back without looking directly at him, “Go get 'em, snowflake. Sam and I will just, um, you know, p – pray if we need you.”

“Of – of course,” Cas stuttered, also avoiding Dean's eyes, “Goodbye, Dean.”

With that, the angel disappeared from the spot he was standing in, leaving Dean's hand to fall back to his side. Sam held down another smile and shook his head a bit at the sheer embarrassment on Dean's face. The guy couldn't even look at Cas after making out with him furiously and it was hilarious to see him struggling to remain casual. Sam opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment about it, but Dean cut him off with a fierce glare.

“One word and you're dead,” the older brother threatened, his face still glowing as bright as Rudolph's nose.

Sam chuckled a bit – before he heard a new voice say ' _mistletoe_!' He was yanked down into a new kiss by some random chick passing by, and heard her say ' _Merry Christmas, Sam_ ' before he even realized that it was happening. Sam huffed a breath and glared at the mistletoe over head afterward. Dammit! He needed to get rid of this thing!

“Come on,” Sam grumbled, starting for the front door of the lodge, “Let's get that damn quilt.”

Dean made no arguments at Sam's request. Both Winchesters strolled up to the main entrance in stride with Dickie sprinting over to join them. Just as Sam was reaching out for the door, his older brother grabbed his arm, stopping him from going inside. While Sam paused at the door, Dean inched over to look inside one of the nearby windows, surveying the scene as if they were on a case.

“Ah, shit,” Dean whispered, his breath fogging on the glass, “This place is packed full of old men, Sammy. I'm afraid for your mouth.”

Sam's face contorted with disgust. Oh, no. Not old men! The younger brother stepped over to peer into the same window and assess the scene for himself. From what he could see, there was a meeting taking place inside the lodge. Rows and rows of old men were facing toward a stage, where another man was talking into a microphone. Directly behind the speaking guy, however, was a large wall full of mounted animal heads. And a beautiful hand-stitched quilt was hanging in the middle.

“There's the quilt,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah. But how are you gonna get across the ocean of wrinkles and gray beards, Sam? Are you gonna use your tongue as an oar?” Dean spat with sarcasm.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's comment but took the time to seriously consider his options. Thankfully, everyone's attention was on the singular man at the front of the room. However, that one man was standing in the very same spot Sam needed to get to without being seen. If he could somehow shift the room's attention elsewhere, Sam might actually have a chance of sneaking up and taking the quilt down before any of the men could see his Christmas appendage.

“How about you go in through the front door and cause a distraction,” Sam suggested, “and while they're all looking at you, I'll go up and steal the quilt from the stage and then meet you outside?”

Dean nodded at Sam, seeming kind of impressed with his plan.

“Alright. But if anyone sees you, hike up your skirt run for it, Sammy,” the older brother ordered, patting his shoulder.

Sam tossed Dean a half-glare for the witty remark but nodded back. Dean straightened out his jacket and rubbed his palms together, warming up his hands before darting into the hunting lodge. Sam stayed by the window and watched his brother through the glass, waiting to see all of the old men turn their attention away from the front of the room. Dean, of course, began rambling out loud as soon as he went inside and it didn't take long for everyone to look toward him. Thankfully, Dean was also stepping toward the right side of the room, giving Sam a clear passage all the way to the stage.

As soon as Sam was certain that every eye in the room was on Dean, he quickly and quietly slipped inside the lodge. The room was much warmer on the inside and smelled sweet with pine and holly, but Sam barely noticed because he was in a rush to get his task over with.

“ - and I was sent here to talk to you about latest model of the Winchester hunting rifle. I'm not sure how many of you have actually used the newest gun in our arsenal, but it has a really innovative safety feature that causes the bullet to be fired at a precise angle -”

Dean's deep voice was echoing through the room while Sam sneaked his way to the stage. The man holding the microphone had thankfully stepped to the far side of the wooden platform to see Dean better and it gave Sam an open invitation to the quilt on the wall.

As he was on his way to crouch next to the blanket, though, something on the stage floor caught Sam's eye. It was a small shiny candy wrapper, shimmering in the bright Christmas lights hanging around the room. Sam glanced around before picking the trash up to inspect it. Alarm bells were ringing in Sam's head at the sight. _It's the trickster! I knew it! The sweet-toothed, candy-loving trickster left his wrapper behind! He was here! Dean has to see this!_ Sam instantly stuffed the candy wrapper into his pocket, planning to show it to his brother later.

After Sam had tucked away his 'trickster' evidence, he turned his attention to the quilt. Hoping to stay silent, Sam carefully took hold of the bottom hem of the blanket and gave it a stern tug – causing it to rip loose from the nails holding it up. The loud sound of tearing fabric cut through the lodge as the soft cloth fell and gathered into a large heap on the floor. Sam grimaced at the loud noise, knowing that it had been enough to interrupt Dean's speech. He quickly scooped the quilt up into his arms before spinning around – and seeing a room full of wide eyes staring at him.

Sam gulped, carefully taking a step back. Oh, shit. All of the old men were staring at him now. And they were all _smiling_ , just like everyone else who had kissed him that morning! The man on stage was the first to start walking toward Sam.

“ _Mistletoe_ ,” the gentleman cooed.

“Run, Sammy!” Dean shouted from across the room, “ _Run_!”

Sam didn't hesitate. From the second he heard his brother's voice, Sam was _gone_ ; twirling around to sprint for the exit. His arms were full of the quilt and his legs were going full speed, but he had to make an abrupt stop – because his escape was suddenly blocked by the old men. They were all swarming around Sam and saying _mistletoe_ , giving him no room to flee. In a panic, Sam spun around and dashed for the other end of the room toward a long hallway. He had no idea where it led, but he hoped that there would be a secondary exit somewhere or at least a place to hide until all of the old men were free from the mistletoe's power.

There was a door at the end of the hallway that Sam instantly ripped open. He dove into the room and slammed the door shut behind him, bracing against it to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and panted for a moment, trying to let his nerves settle. Whoa, that had been a close one. Sam almost had to kiss his way out of a hunting lodge full of old dudes! The man hugged the quilt tight against his chest as a smile flickered on his face. He couldn't wait to show Dean what he found on the stage and prove that the trickster was behind all of this...

“ _Mistletoe_.”

Sam's eyes flew open at the sound of a nearby voice. He was suddenly facing an entire room full of elderly _women_. An entire group of old ladies – probably the wives of the men on the other side of the door – were all huddled around a table full of wrapped presents. And now, they were all slowly making their way toward Sam, eying the mistletoe and his face. Fear was quick to flood Sam's veins as he watched the women approaching him. Oh, no, he was trapped! There was no escape this time! His only choice now was whether to be kissed by old _men_ or old _women..._

With choruses of ' _mistletoe_ ,' Sam found himself suddenly swamped with puckered lips. The ladies were hobbling over to get in line, showering Sam with warm kisses and shouts of ' _merry Christmas, Sam_!' Sam couldn't do much while it was taking place. He could only stand there, cling to the blanket in his arms, and pray that rescue would come. One particularly saucy woman yanked Sam down into a _french_ kiss, leaving the taste of denture cream in his mouth. Sam's stomach turned with disgust at the minty flavor as he shook his head away. Ew, that was _so gross_! Gabriel was such _a dick_!

The door against Sam's back suddenly flew open, causing him to stumble backward into the hallway. He cringed and hugged his quilt tighter, fearing that the old men were coming after him next. But thankfully, the first person he saw was Dean.

“Go, Sam!” his older brother yelled, pushing him toward the door across the hall, “I've got your back! Run!”

Sam instantly darted out of the door and was greeted with bracing cold of the outside. Oh, thank God! They had found the exit! And there was no one around! Sam raced across the snow-covered lawn toward the street, hearing Dean follow behind him. Once he was sure that no one else was close enough to see his mistletoe, Sam slowed to a stop, stepping over to catch his breath by a snowy pine tree. He was still slightly traumatized by his most recent kisser. Ugh, he really needed to brush his teeth and get the horrible taste out of his mouth...

Dean ran over to stand next to him in the snow. The older Winchester flashed a few cautious glances around, probably making sure no one else was coming after them, before grabbing Sam's arm protectively.

“Sam? Are you good?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Sam felt like saying, ' _what do you think?_ ', but something much more pressing was on his mind. As he his breath fogged into the cold air, Sam reached into his pocket and retrieved the candy wrapper. He held the shimmering plastic up between them, letting it sparkle in the sunlight. Dean's eyebrows raised with surprise as he searched the candy wrapper with shock. Sam smirked at his brother's reaction, feeling smug.

“The trickster doesn't seem so dead now, does he?” Sammy purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it was unclear, this fic is taking place after the episode “Hammer of the Gods” in which Gabe says his famous “Big bag of dicks” line and is then promptly murdered by Lucifer. (Ah, brotherly love.) So yes, Gabriel is supposed to be 'dead' in this fic. But that's not stopping Sam from believing. :) I hope you're enjoying so far! :)


	3. Chapter 3

“Here,” Dean said, holding out a steaming cup toward his brother, “It's hot cocoa. They were all out of coffee.”

Sam instantly grasped the warm plastic cup and cradled it tightly before bringing it to his mouth to take a few cautious gulps. Ah, finally. That gross flavor of denture cream – the one he got from that sick old lady at the hunting lodge – was finally being washed away by hot chocolatey goodness. Sam enjoyed the drink for a moment, closing his eyes and sipping the smooth liquid at a generous pace, before pausing to take a breath of cold air. He could feel the heated moisture traveling through his stomach too, warming him up from the inside. Although he disliked everything associated with Christmas, Sam had to admit that drinking hot cocoa in the snow was pretty nice.

The Winchesters brothers were currently loitering outside a diner directly across the street from the Elder Beaver Hunting Lodge. Sam, of course, was trying his best to stay hidden from sight to avoid being kissed by more strangers. He and Dickie had been standing around the side of the building near the dumpsters when Dean brought him the drink. Sam was very thankful that his brother went inside and got it for him, because if Sam had gone in, he would have come back out with at least twenty new lipstick smudges on his face.

“Thanks,” Sam mumbled, reattaching his mouth to the rim of the cup to take a few more gulps.

Dean didn't reply to Sam's gratitude, though. He was too preoccupied with the candy wrapper in his hand. Sam smirked down at the shiny plastic between Dean's fingers, feeling smug again. Oh, that dirty rotten trickster had slipped up this time. Leaving his candy wrappers behind? Geez, could the guy have been anymore careless? Gabriel might as well have left his photo ID, birth certificate, and social security information on the floor. No one would be able to deny his guilt with this new discovery. All signs were pointing to the trickster.

But, as usual, Dean was being a stubborn jackass.

“This doesn't mean anything, Sam,” he spat, shaking his head and tossing the wrapper over his shoulder, “That guy on stage probably ate the candy and accidentally dropped the trash on the floor.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam nearly gasped, angered by his brother's denial, “Dean, how many old people do you know that eat Butterfingers, huh? You really think they could crunch into that hard candy with their weak jaws and fake teeth? It's not possible, man! Go and ask them if you don't believe me!”

“Would you listen to yourself, Sammy?!” Dean barked, “You're telling me to go and ask elderly people if they eat hard candy! What old men put in their mouths is their own damn business. Not ours.”

“See? You're afraid to go and ask because you know I'm right!” Sam challenged, his voice pitching higher, “This has 'Gabriel' written all over it! Why don't you see that?! Why don't you believe me?!”

“ _Because he's dead_!” Dean nearly shouted.

Sam flinched at his brother's loud tone, jerking back from the harsh words as if they were physically harmful. Ouch, that hurt so much to hear. Every time someone mentioned Gabriel being dead, it was like a shock to Sam's system. Dean eyed Sam for a second before his green eyes softened a bit. He huffed a breath of annoyance.

“All I'm saying is that we need to consider all of the evidence, okay?” Dean said carefully, “Even Cas thinks that the trickster is dead, Sam. Do you really want to waste time following a false lead? Or do you want to keep an open mind and leave room for more suspects?”

Sam swallowed a gulp of chocolatey flavor before forcing a nod. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe Sam was being bias when it came to deciphering the evidence. Hell, Sam had been so sure that it was Gabriel that he didn't stop to realize that other people could be responsible. Because, deep down, Sam actually _wanted_ the trickster to be responsible for this. Sam _wanted_ to blame Gabriel for the kissing, and the perverted dog, and the over-the-top Christmas cheer. Sam _wanted_ Gabriel to be alive...

Because then, he wouldn't have to feel guilty about being the reason Gabriel died...

Sam cleared his throat and shifted in the snow a little, sloshing around the warm cocoa in his cup. He knew that Dean had a point. If – by some bizarre twist of fate – it _wasn't_ Gabriel, then the real culprit was still out there, waiting to meet Sam at Rockefeller Center before midnight. And he only had one of the three things he needed to get rid of his stupid mistletoe.

“Fine,” Sam muttered, feeling queasy, “Let's just get the next thing on the list.”

Dean nodded back, seeming glad that Sam finally agreed with him, before reaching into his pocket to retrieve the crumpled card. He glanced over the handwriting on the back and shook his with disappointment as his expression morphed into exhaustion.

“Ah, shit,” he grumbled, “We have to go to the mall.”

“What?” Sam breathed, his face draining of blood.

Oh, God. Not the _mall_! Sam could see it now; Massive crowds of people swarming all over the mall in search of last minute Christmas gifts. A sea of puckered lips would be standing between Sam and the item he had to retrieve, just waiting to clobber him with kisses and 'Merry Christmas's. Chills raced over his skin at the horrible thought. No, he could _not_ go into a mall on Christmas eve! His face would never survive it! Dean must have seen the look of total fear in Sam's expression because he quickly read the words out loud.

“It says, ' _Mr. Jingles, Second floor of Marshall's Toy Chest at the local mall,_ ” Dean answered.

“Mr. Jingles?” Sam repeated, lost, “What the hell is -”

The younger Winchester's voice was drowned out by a string of yipping barks. The tiny Jack Russell Terrier near them was suddenly animated, jumping, barking, and acting all excited. Sam eyed Dickie's frantic behavior, watching the big red bow wiggle around his neck. Again, Dickie was acting like Sam had given him a command because he was running away all of the sudden, jetting out of the alley and back onto the sidewalk. Sam's stomach turned again as he watched the dog's wagging tail disappear around the corner. Oh, God. Did he really have to go back out there? With all those people? All those _mouths_?

“Come on, Sam,” Dean huffed, tugging him by the sleeve, “We can't let that little furball get too far ahead of us.”

Although Sam was thoroughly against the idea wading through more forced kisses, he gulped the rest of his hot cocoa and draped the folded quilt over his shoulder before following his brother back out into the public. Luckily, Dickie was still in sight, just barely five yards in front of the Winchesters. And to Sam's overwhelming relief, the sidewalks seemed pretty clear. Only a few people were currently outside and it made Sam's mouth feel a whole lot safer.

The snow on the ground was melting into slush and caused Sam and Dean's boots to make squishy sounds as they ran. Sam still tried to keep his head down as they made their way through town, not wanting anymore kisses – but unfortunately, it didn't help much. He nearly ran into some random guy on the sidewalk, who promptly pecked him with wet lips and wished him a merry Christmas before dashing off happily. Dean, of course, was holding back another snicker when they started chasing Dickie again. Sam glared at his older brother afterward, feeling bitter and spiteful. It wasn't fair that shit like this never happened to Dean. But then again, Dean _did_ have his fair share of discomfort this morning, didn't he?

“So, do you want to tell about what's going on with you and Cas? Because I've never seen you kiss anyone like that before,” Sam asked Dean smoothly, still keeping a steady pace.

A blush instantly bloomed across Dean's face as they ran, making him glow as red as Christmas lights again. Sam grinned at his brother's discomfort, loving how upset he got whenever the tables were turned on him.

“It was the mistletoe, dammit!” Dean growled, sounding all defensive, “It – it was just the spell or whatever, 'cause I totally did _not_ want to kiss him. I mean, you know, Cas and I are just _friends_. Making out with him is so, you know – so _gross_! And I – I was _not_ turned on by it, okay?! I wasn't aroused at all, dammit! So, stop asking about it, Sam! Geez!”

Sam chuckled out loud at his brother's hasty explanation. It was painfully obvious that Dean was feeling the exact opposite of what he was saying; that kissing Cas actually _was_ enjoyable for Dean. But Sam didn't badger him about it anymore. He wanted to save some of the teasing for later in case he needed to even the score again.

After crossing a few more streets and making a left turn, Sam and Dean found themselves jogging across a huge parking lot. The mall – a rather large one by the size of its three-story structure – was positioned at the end of several long rows of parked vehicles. Sam's stomach tightened with fear at the sheer amount of cars parked around them. Ugh, it was going to be so crowded in there! Sam wasn't going to be able to even walk through the front door without his mouth being molested!

Dean slowed to a stop near the front row of cars and Sam joined him. The Winchesters both paused to catch their breath and look around, trying to figure out the best way to get inside. Dickie had already made it to the front entrance of the mall – where he was happily chasing around a Salvation Army bell ringer. It seemed like he wanted to hump her leg or something because the poor lady was nervously sprinting around her red bucket of money, ringing her bell and trying to avoid Dickie's 'friendly' behavior. Sam shook his head at the sight. Man, that dog needed to be neutered. Pronto.

“Shit, that's a ton of people,” Dean hissed, gesturing to the crowd slowly filtering in and out of the revolving doors, “We should set up a booth, Sammy. Ten bucks a kiss. We'll be rich in half an hour.”

Sam shook his head in defeat, ignoring his brother's witty comment.

“There's no way I'm going in there,” Sam breathed, feeling sick, “As soon as they see me, I'm dead.”

Dean's eyes seemed to brighten at Sam's words, as if they had given him a great idea. After swiveling his head around for a second, the older brother patted the younger on the back.

“Wait here,” he said, walking toward the mall, “I'll be right back.”

Though he wanted Dean to stay with him in case things got out of control, Sam did as he was told. He hung around the first row of vehicles and watched his brother dash into the crowd of people a few yards away and go into the mall. Once Dean was gone, Sam's eyes dropped back to Dickie. The charity woman was now at a stand off with the dog, using the red bucket of money as a shield while Dickie tried his damnedest to get to her. And though it was kind of funny to watch her swat at the dog with her bell, Sam felt the need to help her out.

“Dickie,” Sam called, waving at him, “Come here, boy!”

Luckily, the dog responded to Sam's voice. His little ears perked up and his head spun around to look at Sam. Dickie instantly raced back across the parking lot to him, barely avoiding a passing car in the process. Sam's heart leaped into his throat when Dickie ran out in front of the moving vehicle, but thankfully, the car missed him. The man knelt down near the snow-covered asphalt to pick up the dog and pet him anxiously. Geez, that was close! Was this dog born without fear or something? Or did he just take after his owner?

“Who is your owner?” Sam asked the dog.

Of course, the only reply Sam received from Dickie was a head tilt and a tail wag. But it didn't stop Sam from wondering. If the person responsible for Sam's mistletoe wasn't Gabriel, then who could it be? Was it some random witch, like Dean had suggested to begin with? Was it Crowley? No, Cas said the mistletoe seemed celestial, right? That meant it had to be an angel. It just couldn't be Gabriel. Because, like Dean had stated repeatedly all morning, Gabriel was... dead.

“I'm back.”

Sam nearly jumped at the sound of his brother's deep voice. He had been so deep in thought that he had forgotten all about Dean being gone. Sam carefully put Dickie back on the ground and rose to his feet to inspect Dean's hands. The guy had apparently gone into the mall to get something – a brown paper bag, by the looks of it.

“What's that for? To carry the quilt around?” Sam asked.

“Actually, it's for your head,” Dean grinned, fanning the bag open, “I poked out a couple of eye holes for you. See?”

“Wait. What? You want me to _wear_ that? _On my head_?” Sam barked flatly.

“Look, you said it yourself, Sam. People only want to kiss you when they see you, right? Well, if we cover up your big giant face, then maybe they won't want to kiss you,” Dean theorized, smirking like a jerk the whole time.

Sam glared fiercely at his older brother, feeling caught between total rage and utter defeat. As humiliating and degrading Dean's plan sounded, Sam couldn't help but agree that it might work. Yeah, wearing a bag over your head seemed like a pretty dumb thing to do, but the alternative was worse. If there was even a small chance that Sam's mouth could be spared, he had to take it. No matter how stupid and embarrassing the chance was. Sam forced a long, loud sigh, before yanking the brown paper bag out of his brother's hands.

“When we get to Rockefeller Center, I'm gonna strangle that Secret Santa,” Sam vowed.

Dean was still smiling when Sam quickly went about stuffing his own head inside the bag. It smelled like paper on the inside and Sam's breath instantly filled the small space with warmth. Although he could see out of the two holes Dean had punched out, Sam reached over and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder anyway, just to cross the street more safely.

“Let's hurry up and get this over with,” Sam growled from inside the bag, his voice muffled by the paper.

Sam could have sworn that he heard Dean stifle a chuckle before they both made their way to the entrance of the mall. Nervousness settled heavily in Sam's gut as they approached the crowd of people. They were already beginning to stare at him, pausing their steps and turning their heads in his direction. ' _Stay calm_ ,' the voice in Sam's head said, ' _They're probably just staring at the paper bag. It's not like they can see the mistletoe. Right_?'

“ _Mistletoe_.”

Sam nearly gasped when a beautiful girl popped up next to him. Before he could even fully see her, she was reaching up to pull the bag off of his head, literally ripping it apart and tossing it away to plunge her lips against his. Sam blinked frantically and looked beyond her head, seeing that everyone at the entrance was staring at him and beginning to smile.

“Shit,” Dean groaned urgently, “It didn't work! Plan B, Sammy!”

Sam plucked his mouth free from his new kiss in order to look toward Dean.

“What's plan B?!” he breathed.

“ _Run for it_ ,” Dean answered.

The older brother was suddenly dashing inside the mall and gesturing Sam to follow. Sam didn't waste any time. He immediately raced up to stay on Dean's heels, seeing the mistletoe bounce above his head. Christmas music was playing loudly through the building, blinking lights were strung everywhere, strangers were scattered in every direction – and the chaotic holiday atmosphere made Sam panic even more. Oh, God! People were everywhere! Sam was surrounded on all sides! Dean was running too fast! Where was Dickie?! Why was 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' playing in an endless loop?!

By the time Sam and Dean made it to the food court, Dickie raced passed them to lead the way. The dog ran by a few more shops before pausing to turn back and bark a few times. Sam and Dean screeched to a halt and looked around, seeing the store next to them. The neon sign hanging over the doorway read 'Marshall's Toy Chest' – and the space was absolutely _packed_ with people. It was nearly wall-to-wall, elbow-to-elbow; people all grabbing toys off the shelves and bustling toward the cash registers where workers were struggling to keep up with the frantic pace. Sam gulped at the Christmas rush, feeling his own heart race with terror. Nope. Huh-uh. There was no way Sam was getting inside that store.

“ _Mistletoe_.”

Sam was suddenly pulled into a new kiss by another stranger – a business man, going by the nice suit and thick scent of after shave – and was promptly followed by a kiss from the nicely dressed lady next to him. Then, _everyone_ was walking toward Sam, like he was a circus attraction or something. Sam could barely see his brother through the crowd of people walking toward him. Oh, no! Sam had stood in one place for too long! Now everyone was in the path of his mistletoe!

“Dean!” Sam gasped, backing up for his life, “Help!”

Sam still receive a few more kisses – one from a young girl dressed like an elf, another from a big muscled body-builder, and one more from a tiny Chinese lady – before Dean dug his way through the crowd to reach him. The older Winchester literally pulled the younger to safety by grabbing him by the back of his shirt and towing him out of the crowd. Sam stumbled along with Dean's grasp, thankful to have gotten away from the huddle of people.

Dean didn't let go of Sam until they made it to a vacant part of the mall. They finally stopped near an empty store that had a 'for lease' sign hanging in the window. 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' was still echoing through the building as Sam doubled over to catch his breath, leaning against the wall to remain standing. Ew, he could still taste a mixture of chap stick and mint gum on his mouth! This Christmas curse sucked so much ass!

“Okay. So, plan B is out the window,” Dean huffed, “Now what?”

“I'm – I'm not going back in there,” Sam denied, shaking his head.

“But we need to get that stupid thing on the list, Sam,” Dean reminded, “Do you want to get rid of that damn plant over your head or do you actually _like_ being kissed by dudes that look like Arnold Schwarzenegger?”

“Of course I want to get rid of it! But did you see that toy store, Dean?! It was packed!” Sam breathed, his voice pitching high with panic, “Tons of people! Just waiting to kiss me! On the _mouth_! With _their_ mouths! _So many mouths_! _It's a mouth orgy in there, Dean_!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean said, reaching out to pat Sam's arm, “Simmer down, Howard Stern. There aren't going to be any mouth orgies on Christmas... How about I follow the dog and get Mr. Jingles and you just stay here and hide from the crowd? If you get swamped again, just yell for me and I'll come running. Sound good?”

Sam nodded at his brother's suggestion, feeling a little relieved. As long as he didn't have to brave that massive group of people again, Sam didn't mind being left alone. Besides, he was pretty safe now, here in an empty part of the building away from everyone else. Dean gave Sam's arm a reassuring squeeze before quickly walking away.

“I'll be right back, Sammy,” he promised.

Sam watched his brother disappear back into the swarm of Christmas shoppers before letting his sight wander around with caution. He was secretly scoping out his perimeter, making sure that he was still at a safe distance from everyone else. People were strolling by without a care, which obviously meant that Sam's mistletoe was far enough away. Still, Sam kept listening to the Christmas music and looking around, searching to see if anyone was going to run at him with puckered lips.

The middle of the mall was just a few yards in front of Sam and he could see the colorful wonderland display there. A decorated Christmas tree towered toward the skylight roof and a large red chair was positioned in front of it, surrounded by fake snow, wrapped presents, and animatronic reindeer. A man dressed as Santa Clause was sitting there in the middle, ushering children over to sit on his lap and ask them what they wanted for Christmas. People were lined up to see him. A large group of happy parents and eager kids, all with smiles on their faces.

Sam glanced at the joyous people from a distance, feeling secretly envious. Not once did John Winchester ever take his children to see Santa. John never dropped by a mall to let Dean and Sam ask Santa for Christmas gifts. He never sat out cookies and milk or video taped his kids opening presents on Christmas morning like normal parents did. Hell, Sam always knew that his gifts – if he got any – always came from _Dean_ , not John. Sam didn't have happy Christmas memories... But it was nice to see other people making some. The smiles on those kids' faces were so bright and genuine that they made Sam smile, too. Man, it must have been so cool to be a kid and talk to the big man on Christmas eve...

'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' finally stopped playing and changed to a different song. The melody was quieter and Sam could hear more of the random chatter coming from the people around him. In fact, he could even hear Santa talking... and Santa sounded... really familiar...

“And what do you want, short-stack?” Santa asked, his voice barely audible over the crowd.

Sam narrowed his eyes toward the guy sitting in the big chair at a distance, glancing over his fake fluffy beard and red and white costume. Man, that guy seemed too small to play Santa. He was too short and skinny, barely big enough to hold the kid on his lap. Sam didn't hear the child's reply, but Santa gave a loud laugh afterward. A _real_ laugh, not a jolly laugh like Santa should have. Huh. Why did that laugh sound so damn familiar?

“A puppy? I love puppies!” Santa sang joyfully, “So, what color to you want your puppy to be? Red? Purple? Aquamarine?”

“Brown,” the little girl replied shyly.

“A brown puppy, huh? Hmm. That seems kinda boring. What about a pony instead?” Santa grinned.

The little girl's face lit up at Santa's suggestion but her parents were sternly shaking their heads in the background. Obviously, they did _not_ want Santa to put ideas in the little girl's head. But it seemed like 'Santa' didn't care about her parents. He kept rambling on in that familiar voice as if they weren't even there.

“Tell you what, sweetheart,” Santa smirked, “If you be a good little girl and make sure to leave out lots of candy – er, I mean, _cookies_ for me tonight, there will _definitely_ be a pony in your backyard on Christmas morning. Deal?”

“Deal!” the little girl sang, “Thank you, Santa!”

“Anytime, kiddo,” Santa winked.

The little girl hopped off Santa's lap to dash back to her parents, who were giving Santa the fiercest glares ever. Sam watched all of this from a distance, feeling his heart carefully picking up speed. That voice! Sam _knew_ that voice! It belonged to the trickster! It belonged to _Gabriel_! Sam's feet were suddenly moving, drawing him closer toward the Christmas display in the middle of the mall. Mistletoe be damned, Sam _had_ to find out if he was right.

Another kid was in the middle of climbing into Santa's lap when Sam stalked mindlessly into the scene, knocking over decorations without being aware. Sam could feel lots of eyes on him – and on his mistletoe – but for the moment, he forgot about the stupid Christmas curse. The only thing Sam cared about as he walked up to Santa was seeing the large pair of golden eyes that turned to look up at him from underneath the red and white hat. Those eyes didn't belong to Santa. They belonged to _Gabriel_.

In an eager rush of adrenaline, Sam stepped up and grabbed a fist full of Santa's fake beard before firmly yanking it away. The white fluffy beard fell away to reveal Santa's smooth face underneath – and Sam's mouth fell open at the sight. It was him! It really _was_ Gabriel! He was sitting there in a Santa suit with his lips curved into a devilish grin and his golden eyes shining with mischief. Gabriel was _alive_!

“ _Y – you_ ,” Sam breathed, too stunned to say anymore.

Gabriel didn't reply to Sam. The trickster only gave a single hard wink – before disappearing into thin air. The kid that had been sitting on his lap stumbled into the big chair by himself. Sam gasped at Gabriel's vanishing act, feeling like he had just been taunted. No! He couldn't let Gabriel get away! Sam wanted to see him! And talk to him! And make him get rid of this stupid mistletoe!

As Sam searched his surroundings for the trickster, he slowly realized that the kid in the chair was staring at him with big eyes. In fact, _all_ of the children who had been waiting to see Santa were now staring at Sam, smiling and glancing up at the mistletoe. Sam gulped at the sight of them all, feeling like a spotlight was shining directly on him. Uh-oh. They had seen the mistletoe...

“Son of a _nutcracker_ ,” Sam mumbled under his breath.

In a flash, all of the little boys and girls ran up to Sam like a swarm of tiny animals. Sam tried to back away, but his foot got caught on one of the strings of Christmas lights and he went down like a tree, thumping to the floor like a huge log. All of the kids were giggling and chorusing shouts of ' _mistletoe_ ,' while they knelt down to peck Sam's entire face with kisses. His cheeks, his forehead, and his nose all received cute little kisses of holiday joy.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to grab something nearby; something that would help him climb to his feet at get out of the pile of cute kids. But thankfully, they started saying ' _Merry Christmas, Sammy_ ,' and skipping away from him. Sam eventually gained enough space to sit up – where he was greeted with the sight of happy _adults_. Men and women were all starting to crowd around Sam at Santa's chair, giving him no room to escape. Oh, God! It was the hunting lodge all over again! Sam was starting to have terrible flashbacks of old ladies!

“ _Dean_!” Sam shouted, climbing to his feet as fast as he could, “ _Dean_! _I'm trapped_!”

“Sam!”

The younger Winchester spun around to look toward the food court, where he spotted his brother. Dean was holding a plastic bag in his hand and waving hurriedly at Sam, motioning him to run. Sam didn't waste any time. He instantly sprang into action, darting through the crowd of people to make it to his older brother. A few people were trying to catch him as he ran by but Sam just pulled himself from their grasp and kept going. He was determined to get the hell out of the mall in one piece.

Once they were close enough together, the two Winchester brothers both dashed toward the exit of the mall. Dickie was right on their heels as they all ran out into the snowy parking lot. Sam's heart was racing the whole time, fueling his legs with energy. When they finally reached a more deserted area of the parking lot, Sam and Dean eventually slowed down to stop and catch their breath; panting and bracing their hands on their knees.

“Hey, look. We made it,” Dean panted, flashing a smirk.

Sam watched him stand up straight and reach into the plastic bag in his hand. Dean pulled out a stuffed animal from inside – a moose that had bells sewn onto his fluffy antlers. A decorative red bow was tied around his neck too, making him look extra Christmasy.

“Sam, Mr. Jingles. Mr. Jingles, Sam,” Dean said, gesturing between the stuffed moose and his brother as if he was introducing them to one another.

For some reason, Sam suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. His ab muscles were tightening with every chuckle as he stood there laughing with utter amusement. Dean was obviously confused by Sam's humorous reaction, but Sam couldn't help it. He was feeling lighter than a feather all of the sudden, as if he had just gotten a glimpse of heaven and lived to tell the tale.

“Uh... What's so funny?” Dean asked, sounding concerned.

Sam giggled a few more times and wiped the moisture from his eyes, feeling like a kid again. Gabriel's face was fresh in his mind, grinning wildly from underneath Santa's hat in a continuous loop. Sam's belief was firmer than ever. His Secret Santa wasn't exactly secret anymore. Sam's smile never dimmed, even when he raised his head and saw Dean's confusion. His heart was pounding with excitement and his stomach was tingling with happiness.

“Gabriel is alive,” Sam announced proudly, “The trickster is my Secret Santa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Gabe. He can't resist showing off in front of Sammy, can he? I kind of feel sorry for that little girl's parents. Because they're gonna wake up with a pony in their backyard, and no idea how it got there. Lol. :) I really hope you guys are enjoying this story so far! The next chapter is even funnier ;D


	4. Chapter 4

Snow was starting to drift down from the orange sky as Sam and Dean stood staring at each other in the parking lot. Sam was still wearing a giant smile and feeling smug and delighted by his most recent discovery. But Dean was wearing a look of worry, eying his little brother with concern. And Sam hated it. Ugh, why was Dean _still_ making that face? How was he _still_ not convinced that Gabriel was behind this? After seeing all the evidence? After seeing all the _proof_?

“We literally just went through this, Sam,” Dean grumbled, shoving Mr. Jingles back into his bag, “I've told you a hundred times today. It _cannot_ be Gabriel. He was shishkabobbed on an angel blade by his own brother. He's dead, dammit -”

“No, he's not! I just saw him!” Sam grinned, gesturing toward the huge building across the parking lot, “He was in there, Dean! He was playing Santa in the mall!”

Again, Sam was filled with an energetic sense of happiness when he spoke of the trickster. Oh, man, it felt _so good_ to know that Gabriel was alive! Now, Sam didn't have to feel guilty anymore. He could finally let himself feel better and he _did_. After seeing Gabriel dressed as Santa, in all his mischievous glory, Sam was feeling like a million bucks; glowing from the inside out.

But Dean wasn't happy at all. If anything, the guy was acting like the doctor of a mental patient, giving Sammy a genuine look of concern and shaking his head with disappointment. And it pissed Sam off immensely. Why was Dean acting like that?! Why wouldn't he believe his own brother?!

“Did somebody give you a glass of spiked eggnog in there?” Dean spat, “Did you have a shot of peppermint schapps, Sammy? Because you're talking like a crazy person right now.”

“I'm not crazy,” Sam denied, shaking his head and making the mistletoe move around, “I _know_ what I saw! I saw _Gabriel_! He's playing _Santa_! He's playing a _trick_!”

“Dammit, Sam, are you hearing the words that are coming out of your own mouth?!” Dean interrupted, his face filling with angered worry, “I can't believe you're actually – Hey! Stop that!”

Dean had paused to look down at the ground, where Dickie was jumping up and down in front of him. The dog was obviously trying to get to the stuffed animal in the bag Dean was holding, pawing and snapping his jaws toward the moose's fluffy antlers sticking out of the top. But Dean lifted the bag higher to keep it away from the dog. Dickie whined a bit but didn't cease his efforts. He just kept jumping and reaching for the toy. It seemed like he really wanted the moose; like he thought belonged to him or something.

“Ah, great, now the dog is going insane, too,” Dean barked, seeming exasperated, “Is everyone taking crazy pills today?! Is there _anybody_ around here that I can talk to that hasn't completely lost their mind yet?!”

“Hello, Dean.”

Sam and Dean both gasped and jumped at the sound of Cas's voice. The angel had appeared next to them in the parking lot, wearing his trench coat and resting bitch face as usual. Sam took a breath to calm himself and his smile returned at full capacity. Oh, hallelujah! Cas was here! Surely _Cas_ would tell Dean that Gabriel was alive, right? If Dean wouldn't believe Sam, then he sure as hell would believe Cas.

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean grumbled, his face instantly turning red, “Give us a warning next time!”

Cas's blue eyes filled with discomfort and flickered toward the ground as he took a step back. He seemed kind of nervous to be around Dean, still. In fact, he and Dean were both avoiding each others' eyes again, acting like it was a sin to even look at one another.

“My apologies,” the angel mumbled, “How are you progressing with your case?”

“It's not a case, Cas. It's a prank,” Dean corrected, “and it would be going a lot smoother if _someone_ would stop pinning the blame on a dead guy.”

“He's not dead, Dean!” Sam spoke up, feeling offended.

For a moment, Dean and Sam both forgot that Cas was standing with them. The two brothers only glared at each other, each defensive of his own opinion. Sam was determined to win this damn fight. He was never going to stop believing in Gabriel, no matter what anyone said. Even Dean's words couldn't persuade him otherwise.

“Read my lips, Sammy,” Dean said carefully, his eyes narrowing with authority, “ _Gabriel. Is. Worm. Food_.”

Pure rage shot through Sam's entire being at Dean's outrageous statement. Both of his hands balled into fists and he had the strong urge to punch his brother for even saying it. But luckily, Sam remembered what was in his possession. He had a much more subtle way of dealing with Dean's bitchiness today. Without a word, Sam simply took two giant steps forward – putting the mistletoe between Dean and Cas again.

The anger on Dean's face instantly faded into longing as he spun to look at Cas. And Cas's blue eyes finally raised up to meet Dean's before they both lunged forward, joining their open mouths to kiss again. Sam watched it happen with a grin on his face the whole time, feeling secretly smug. If Dean wanted to use his mouth to say hurtful things, then Sam was going to make sure he used it to kiss Cas too.

After a good minute or so of watching his brother make out furiously with Cas, Sam eventually backed up to break the mistletoe's connection. Once it was gone from over their heads, Dean and Cas let go of each other and turned pink, both surprised by their own desperate actions and blushing with humiliation. Dean gave a loud howl of frustration as he wiped his mouth off, turning to glower at Sam with total rage.

“ _Stop doing that_!” he shouted, voice echoing around the parking lot.

“Only if you start listening to me,” Sam warned, raising an eyebrow, “I'm telling you I just saw the trickster with my own eyes, Dean. He _is_ alive. And he _is_ the one doing all of this. Right, Cas?”

Cas – who had once again caressed his own mouth with timid fingertips after kissing Dean, as if the act had been strangely pleasant for him – turned to meet eyes with Sam. And even in the small few seconds that they looked at each other, Sam knew that Cas didn't agree. His blue eyes were full of regret as his head started shaking back and forth.

“I'm sorry, Sam,” Cas said quietly, “I questioned many people today, sought out many leads... But from what I could gather, it appears that Gabriel is most likely -”

“ _Don't say it_.”

“ – dead,” Cas concluded over Sam's interruption, sounding apologetic, “I know that this situation mimics Gabriel's handiwork with convincing dexterity, Sam, but it may only be the work of someone who closely mirrors him. Because I have found no proof of his return in any part of the world. Not a single trace of his resurrection anywhere.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Dean chorused with relief, reaching over to pat Cas's shoulder with approval.

Sam's smile disappeared as his eyes shifted between his dramatic older brother and the know-it-all angel next to him. This was ridiculous! How could they both be so blind? Better yet, how could they be in such a state of disbelief? Sam saw Gabriel in person only ten minutes earlier! Why didn't they believe him?

“ _Mistletoe_.”

Sam barely had enough time to look toward the new voice when he found himself sharing another kiss with a stranger. The girl smooched him heatedly, giving his mouth a few extra pecks before wishing him a merry Christmas and dashing off toward the mall. Sam wiped his own mouth and watched her go, feeling violated again. Dammit! He couldn't even stand in a vacant parking lot without being targeted by Christmas cheer!

“Look, Sammy,” Dean spoke up, reaching into his pocket, “It doesn't really matter who is behind all of this. We're still gonna need to get the last thing on this list either way, right?”

Sam forced a nod as he watched Dean take the card back out of his pocket. Yeah, Dean was probably right about getting the things on the list. Although Sam didn't know why, it was apparent that Gabriel needed all of this stuff for some reason. Maybe they were ingredients for a spell or things that Gabriel had misplaced in his travels or something. Whatever the reason, Sam had to get them if he wanted the mistletoe to come down. Cas was looking over Dean's shoulder when Dean read the back of the card out loud.

“ _Top shelf whiskey, B.J.'s Bar, across the road from the church_ ,” he said, making a strange face, “B.J.'s? Who the hell names a bar B.J.'s?”

Although Sam was also curious about the bar's name, he looked down at Dickie instead. The dog was still jumping up and down, trying to get to Mr. Jingles in Dean's hand. Knowing that they needed Dickie to lead the way, Sam reached down and gave the dog a few pats on the head to get his attention. Dickie eventually stopped to look up at Sam, wagging his tail with eagerness.

“Show us where the bar is, boy,” Sam prompted with a cooing voice, “Come on, we need some whiskey.”

Thankfully, Dickie instantly started sprinting away, heading out of the parking lot and back toward the street. Sam immediately followed him, kicking up snow as he raced up behind the dog. Dean and Cas were on his heels as they all headed back into town. The sun was already starting to set in the west, turning the clouds above them pink-orange as snow continued to float to the ground. Sam's heart lurched when he saw dusk approaching. Shit, it was almost nighttime. That meant he only had a few more hours to get to Rockefeller Center before it was too late. And he was stuck with this mistletoe _forever._

“Faster, Dickie!” Sam shouted, frightened by the thought of being kissed by strangers for the rest of his life.

The dog seemed to be giving it his all as he rounded a street corner to head toward a new group of buildings. They passed a pharmacy, a restaurant, a small park, and a gas station by the time Sam saw the building with a large steeple on top. And as luck would have it, Sam had been so preoccupied with the sight of the church that he didn't see the large group of Christmas carolers on the sidewalk in front of him.

Sam instantly screeched to a stop, halting on the sidewalk to blink at the massive crowd of singers blocking his way. Holy shit! There was at least _twenty_ of them! Dickie swiftly zig-zagged through their feet and made it safely through to the other side – but Sam wasn't so lucky. The carolers had been in the middle of singing “Joy to the World,” but when Sam crossed their path, they all paused to smile brightly at him. After taking a single large breath, they all sang “ _Mistletoooooe_!” in unison. Sam's heart sank at the joyous sound. Ah, great. He'd been spotted. There would be no avoiding kisses, now...

Sam tried his best to brace himself as the Christmas carolers swarmed around him and gave him fresh kisses. Sam felt like he had become desensitized to having strangers put their mouths on his own, because he wasn't as uncomfortable about it now. It was still weird, of course, but he was kind of getting used to it. He just wished they would hurry up because he had more important things to do. Like find Dickie and get that last damn item on the list...

And see Gabriel before midnight...

When the last of the carolers got done with Sam, they all sang “ _Merry Christmas_ ” with warm voices, before wandering off down the sidewalk, singing “Go Tell It On the Mountain.” Sam dragged his wrist across his mouth again to get rid of the wetness as Dean and Cas jogged up to stand next to him.

“Boy, you really know how to stuff people's stockings, Sammy,” Dean smirked, glancing back at the group of singers, “I've never seen a happier choir.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's playful remark but rushed forward to search for Dickie. He hoped that the dog hadn't gone too far ahead because he still wasn't sure about where to go. He, Dean, and Cas walked closer to the church, all eyes on the look out for a little dog with a red bow.

“ _Dickie_ ,” Sam called, cupping his hands around his mouth, “ _Dickie! Come here, boy_!”

To Sam's great disappointment, the dog didn't respond. The man was left to spin around on the sidewalk and search frantically. Dammit! He couldn't lose Dickie. That dog was too important! He was _Gabriel's_ dog! And Sam had to return him safely.

“The animal is over there,” Cas stated.

Sam stopped to follow Cas's pointing finger toward the church yard next to them. There was a small cluster of Christmas decorations positioned near the sign. An entire Nativity scene was placed out on the snow-covered lawn, complete with plastic statues of Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the three wise men and a bunch of barn animals. And Dickie was hidden amongst them – furiously humping the back end of a plastic camel. Sam's stomach tightened at the disturbing sight. Oh, no, Dickie should _not_ be doing that to a heavenly animal! Not on _Christmas_! Not on _Jesus' birthday_!

“Dammit Dickie!” Sam shouted, “Stop molesting that camel!”

Thankfully, the dog hopped off the camel's ass at Sam's commanding tone. The little Jack Russell Terrier jogged happily over to the Winchesters, where he barked a few times – as if he was trying to defend his actions regarding the camel – and started off across the street. Sam glanced down the road both ways to make sure there wasn't any traffic before racing up to follow the dog. He was shaking his head the entire time, feeling embarrassed by Dickie's latest stunt. Ugh, that dog really needed psychiatric help. Why did he always feel the need to hump something? Especially weird things, like Christmas camels?

In the back of his mind, Sam planned to ask Dean and Cas to go in and retrieve the whiskey while he waited outside the bar. He didn't exactly want to go inside a place named 'B.J.'s' with his mistletoe – especially when there were motorcycles parked near the entrance and a sign in the window that said, “ _No wusses allowed_.” It was plain to see that the place was going to be crawling with big burly men who would all want to kiss Sam as soon as they saw his Christmas decoration.

But Sam's plan to stay outside was derailed when he saw Dickie paw the front door open and sprint inside. Oh no! Dickie just went in all by himself! What if someone tried to hurt the little guy in there? What if he accidentally got stepped on or thrown into the garbage? With a burst of anxiousness, Sam darted into the entrance of the bar...

And immediately regretted his decision.

Through the haze of cigarette smoke, at least forty pairs of eyes looked around to see Sam come in. Lots of tough men – mean-looking men, the kind of men that you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley – were all scattered throughout the bar. Some had been in the middle of playing pool, others had been perched at the bar with drinks in there hands. But now, they were all looking at Sam, staring at him with large eyes and growing smiles. Blood began to drain from Sam's face as he took a few cautious breaths. Son of a bitch. Why the hell did he rush in here? Now he was doomed...

The door at Sam's back suddenly opened again and Dean and Cas came barreling inside. They both paused to stand behind Sam and look around, probably shocked by the silence of everyone staring at them. Sam was grateful that they had joined him, though. At least he wouldn't have to deal with all of these men alone.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathed, sounding worried, “They're all staring at you, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam hissed.

“ _Mistletoe_.”

One of the guys nearest to the door stood up from a table and started walking toward Sam. And his motion must have been a signal to everyone else because _all_ of the men were beginning to raise to their feet and move closer. Sam's large fearful eyes glanced from one scraggly face to another, seeing beards, tattoos, and missing teeth. No! Oh, God, _no_! He didn't want to kiss those mouths! They were so _gross_! Just as Sam was beginning to lose his composure, however, Dean quickly stepped in front of him. It seemed like Dean was equally disturbed by the sight of a bunch of men coming after his little brother because he was holding his hands up defensively.

“Hold it right there!” Dean shouted at the guys closest to Sam, his deep voice echoing around the room, “Listen up! I know all of you are itching to get a piece of this kid's fruit cake, but I'm not gonna let you just attack him like a bunch of wild animals – you hear that, chief? Back it up!” he paused to say to an eager old man near the front.

Sam took a calming breath as he watched the old man take a step back. Huh. They were actually listening to Dean. Why hadn't they tried this strategy before? Maybe Sam wouldn't have to kiss any of them now. Maybe Dean was going to be his body-guard for the rest of the day and keep his mouth safe...

“Now,” Dean spat, once he had their attention, “... what I want you all to do is form a nice, single-file line right here. That's it. Get in line. No cutting! You can all kiss him one at a time like gentlemen.”

Sam's mouth fell open as he spun to glare at Dean. _What_?! He wasn't going to stop them?! Now all the tough men were all literally lining up in front of Sam, wearing smiles of delight as they shoved each other into place. The sound of heavy boots scuffing the floor filled the room when they got in line, making Sam's stomach shrivel up with discomfort. Oh, God!  Kissing them one at a time seemed even worse than kissing them all at once! Dean turned around to grin smugly up at Sam as he reached out and patted his shoulder.

“There you go, little brother,” he said smoothly, “Now, _you_ keep them distracted and _I_ will go and get the top shelf whiskey.”

Sam was at a loss for words. He could only sputter out fragments of sentences in shock as he glared at his older brother. Oh, this was _so low_! Here, Sam thought Dean was actually going to help him out, but _no_. He just wanted to get the job done and cause Sam more discomfort in the process! The prick! Dean was holding down a chuckle as the first man in line yanked Sam down into a sloppy kiss. Sam glared at the back of his brothers head as he watched him start off for the bar. Oh, Sam was _so_ going to punish Dean for this. As soon as they finished getting this bottle of whiskey, Sam was going to make Dean regret it.

“Sam?”

After the next biker dude in line was finished saying “ _Merry Christmas_ ,” Sam turned to glance at Castiel. The angel was still loitering close to him near the door and seemed to be indifferent to everything happening. He was staring at Sam curiously as if there was something on his mind. The next man in line – ew, he looked just like Mick Foley – stumbled up to smack a huge kiss on Sam's lips before Sam could even talk.

“What?” Sam asked quickly afterward, seeing the next guy walk up.

“Do you really think Gabriel is responsible for this?” Cas asked, sounding genuinely hopeful.

Sam blinked toward the other side of the bar as he received another kiss. Gabriel was suddenly all he could think about; his big golden eyes, shaggy blonde hair, and bright playful smirk. Sam was seeing him in the Santa suit all over again. Sam didn't just _think_ that the trickster was responsible for this. He _knew_ it with all of his heart.

“I know he is, Cas. I just saw him -” Sam's sentence was interrupted by a new pair of lips before he was able to say, “ – at the mall. He was dressed up like Santa, talking to a bunch of kids.”

Cas was quiet for a minute as a few more guys took their turns kissing Sam. Luckily, all of them kept their tongues in their mouths, so he didn't have to deal with any french kissers. The line was quickly dwindling by the second and Sam was getting pretty sick of hearing the phrase, “ _Merry Christmas, Sam_.”

“Is it important to you, that Gabriel is responsible, Sam?” Cas asked more quietly, “I mean, do you _want_ him to be responsible?”

“Yes,” Sam blurted, just before he was forced into another kiss.

A tingle of embarrassment traveled across Sam's body as he felt his cheeks filling with heat. Oh, man, why did he feel weird after saying that out loud? Why did he feel like he had just confessed a secret? Cas's stare was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Why?” the angel prodded.

Sam huffed a breath after he was released from a kiss, only to be given a new one. His heart was starting to pick up speed for some reason and he could feel his hands turning clammy. Deep down, Sam knew the answer to Cas's question. He could feel it swirling in the pit of his gut like a cloud of cotton candy.

Sam didn't just want Gabriel to be _responsible_. Sam just simply  wanted Gabriel to be _alive_. Yeah, the guy could be a total prick – especially in cases like this, when he forced Sam to do ridiculous things just for a laugh. But ever since Sam found out that Lucifer had killed Gabriel, thinking of the golden archangel just made Sam feel guilty. Remorseful. Regretful. It made him feel like he didn't get to spend enough time with Gabriel; like the guy was taken away too soon. Of course, Sam hardly knew Gabriel, but thinking about him was always so hard. Especially now, at Christmas time. Hell, Gabriel was one of the reasons why Sam didn't even want to celebrate the damn holidays this year...

But now, after waking up inside one of Gabriel's classic pranks – after seeing Gabriel with his _own eyes_ – Sam felt didn't feel guilty anymore. Now, Sam was just _happy_. Getting to Rockefeller Center was on the tip-top of Sam's to-do list because he knew – with every ounce of his soul – that Gabriel was going to be there. And Sam couldn't wait to walk right up to him, wrap him into a giant hug, look deeply into his honey eyes, and tell him –

“Okay, Popeye, that's enough.”

Sam blinked himself out of his personal thoughts at the sound of Dean's voice. The guy was back and yanking an older man away from his brother as if he thought the guy was taking too long with his kiss. Sam hadn't even been aware that he was being kissed, to be honest. He was too busy thinking about an archangel. Dean had stuffed the bottle of whiskey into his jacket to keep people from seeing it and was now ushering Sam and Cas toward the door.

“Sorry, fellas! That's all the fruit cake you're gonna get this year! Merry Christmas!” Dean called over his shoulder.

The rest of the men who had been waiting patiently in line all gave loud groans of disappointment as the Winchesters exited the bar in a rush. Sam stumbled back out into the snow with Dean and Cas, feeling a little dazed. Whoa, how many kisses did he get in there? He hadn't been paying attention to most of them. Ew, his mouth tasted like cigarettes and alcohol. _Gross_. The Winchesters all rushed to a secluded part of the street before slowing to a stop. Dean was still grinning proudly when he pulled the sizable bottle of whiskey out of his jacket.

“And whiskey makes three,” he sighed, “Great job back there, Sammy. No one even noticed that I was behind the bar.”

Sam glared at his brother, remembering how Dean had practically thrown him at all of those biker dudes. Man, that was so cruel. But now that they were outside, Sam could finally get a little revenge. Instead of acknowledging Dean's statement, Sam just took a couple steps closer to him and Cas and positioned the mistletoe between them again. For the third – or was it the fourth? – time that day, Dean and Cas spun to look deeply at each other and lunged forward to kiss hard, arms reaching out to clutch their clothes and mouths opening to accommodate their tongues. And this time, Sam planned to keep them under this curse for a nice long stint of time.

While Dean and Cas kissed passionately, Sam casually yawned and glanced down at his watch to see that it was seven thirty. He glanced down at Dickie too, who had apparently followed them back out of the bar. The dog was standing in the snow, watching Dean and Cas with his head tilted as if he had never seen two people kiss so furiously before. Sam smirked, watching Dickie blink up at him with curiosity.

“Do you think they've had enough?” the man asked the dog.

Dickie, of course, didn't answer. But Sam could tell that a “ _No_ ” was implied.

“Yeah, me neither,” Sam grinned.

After a few more seconds – during which, Dean's hands slowly began to migrate to Cas's backside where he clutched the angel's ass tightly through the fabric of his clothes – Sam figured that his brother had endured enough punishment. The younger Winchester slowly backed up, pulling his mistletoe away. Dean and Cas let go of each other carefully this time, as if the prolonged exposure had put them in a daze. Their eyes slowly departed and they retracted their hands. Dean's eyes eventually wandered up to look at Sam and he was wearing an expression of honest defeat.

“Yeah... I earned that one...” Dean admitted, his cheeks pink with embarrassment as he held up the bottle, “Here you go.”

Sam was genuinely smiling when he took the bottle of whiskey from his brother. There was dust on the glass from where it had been sitting on the shelf for so long but Sam didn't mind. He had the quilt, Mr. Jingles, and now the whiskey. He had everything he needed to get rid of his mistletoe. The only thing left to do was -

“New York,” Sam blurted, his eyes darting up with excitement, “Cas, I need you to fly me to Rockefeller Center. Right now.”

“Why?” the angel asked, sounding confused.

“It's a long story,” Dean grumbled, “Can you just take us there? It's the place where we're supposed to meet Sam's Secret Santa.”

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Sam corrected.

Dean and Cas both gave Sam looks of worry, but he didn't care. Sam knew that he was right. His heart was beating fast with anticipation and his stomach was gurgling with emotion. Damn, he couldn't wait to get there and see that trickster waiting with a smug grin on his face. Although Cas paused to share a look of concern with Dean, the angel eventually reached out to clutch both Winchesters by the arm. Sam took a bracing breath at the sensation, trying to calm his jittery nerves. This was it.

In a few minutes, Sam would be face to face with his Secret Santa...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, that Dean can be such a dick, eh? (Between you and me, I think he messes with Sam on purpose so that Sam makes him kiss Cas again.) ;) Speaking of 'Dick's, I would like to formally apologize for Dickie's crude behavior in this – and every – story. But in his defense, he gets very excited around Christmas time and doesn't know what else to do with his cheery energy. ;) Btw, Mick Foley is a former WWE wrestler, for those of you who didn't know. (If you look up his picture, you'll get a better sense of who Sam had to kiss in this chapter. *shudders* Poor Sammy. I have a feeling that I might be transferred to the naughty list because of that. lol) But luckily, I have a little more time left to redeem myself. That's right, folks! All will be revealed in the next chapter! :D I hope you like it! <3


	5. Chapter 5

After a sudden gust of wind and a flash of light, the Winchesters found themselves standing amongst the towering, snow-covered buildings of New York. From the moment they landed there, Sam, Dean, and Cas were studying their surroundings. Dickie had traveled with them too somehow, and the dog was still jumping in front of Dean, reaching for the stuffed animal in the bag he was carrying.

Sam's eyes widened when he turned around to take in the whole sight of the city lit up with Christmas decorations. Wow, he hadn't been to New York City in a long time. Sam forgot just how tall the buildings were. They made him feel tiny and insignificant by comparison. Especially now, with all the holiday lights strung up high. Snow was falling a little thicker here, too. And the sky was dark. Much darker than it had been back at the bar...

“The time difference,” Sam breathed in shock, his breath fogging in front of his mouth, “We're in a different time zone! Cas, what time is it here?”

The pit of Sam's stomach was tingling with anxiousness. Shit, what if it was already past midnight here? What if he was stuck with this damn mistletoe for the rest of his life? What if his Secret Santa – _Gabriel_ – wasn't here anymore? What if it was _too late_?! Cas's eyebrows were tightening with confusion while his blue eyes darted toward the dark sky.

“I'm not entirely sure,” the angel answered, shifting around in the snow, “Although, I'm fairly certain it isn't midnight yet.”

Sam took a slightly easing breath as his eyes wandered back to the city around him. Okay, so at least he wasn't _completely_ late. That was a good sign but he wasn't about to take anymore chances. In a rush of nervous – and excited – energy, Sam quickly began to gather the items together. He stuffed the bottle of whiskey into one of his jacket pockets before reaching out to yank Mr. Jingles out of Dean's bag. Dickie followed the stuffed moose and started jumping in front of Sam instead. The quilt was already hanging over Sam's shoulder, where it had been all day long, but Sam patted it anyway just to make sure it was still there. The quilt, Mr. Jingles, the whiskey – Yep, Sam had them all. And he was ready to trade it for his freedom.

“Uh...” Dean said quietly, claiming Sam's attention, “Is it just me, or is it really quiet here?”

Sam paused to hold Mr. Jingles in the crook of his arm as he gave his brother a strange look. He had been so focused on getting to Rockefeller Center on time that he hadn't realized that the place was completely vacant. Sam, Dean, and Cas were standing between two large buildings just in front of a street lined with parked cars, but there was absolutely no one else around. Not a single person passing on the sidewalk or riding by in a vehicle. And the absence of people left the place eerily silent. The only sound Sam could hear was the small whip of cold wind and Dickie's continuous grunts of disapproval over not being able to get to the stuffed moose.

Sam and Dean shared a look of suspicion after meeting each others' eyes again. Huh. Where was everyone? This was New York City on Christmas eve. Shouldn't there have been at least a few people out and about, going home from work or something? Although the absence of people was strange, Sam didn't really have time to care about it. He had to get the three things to his Secret Santa before it was too late.

“Unless you guys want to kiss each other every time you get close to me, we've got to find Gabe – I mean, my _Secret Santa_ ,” Sam corrected, seeing Dean's eyes light up with an argument.

“But there is no one around,” Cas pointed out, gesturing to the silent, vacant area.

Sam looked around at the tall buildings and Christmas lights again, watching the snow drift down amongst the street lights. Cas was right. There wasn't a single soul to be found here. But New York was a big place. Maybe they had to look around for the culprit. Dean seemed to agree with Sam's unspoken suggestion because he was starting to step away – and tugging Cas along by the sleeve the whole time...

“Let's split up and look then,” Dean said out loud, “Cas and I will check around these buildings and you take the hump-machine and check the ice skating rink. Deal?”

“Deal,” Sam grinned, “Shout if you see him first!”

Dean nodded before turning to dart away. Sam noticed that his brother was still clinging to Cas's coat sleeve while he walked, dragging the confused angel along and heading toward the back of a building. Although he was a little bewildered by his brother's eagerness to be alone with Cas, Sam didn't waste time dwelling on it. He spun around to head for the ice skating rink instead. Dickie followed along next to him, still determined to get to Mr. Jingles.

As his feet crunched in the snow and he started zooming through the falling flakes, Sam was feeling extra excited. Oh, man, he could see the giant Christmas tree already! It was sparkling and glistening with lights, overlooking the golden statue underneath. The sound of running water – from the fountain, Sam assumed – was growing louder with each of his steps. And there was music, too; faint Christmas music humming from a nearby source –

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas... Make the yuletide gay..._

Sam could feel his heart beating hard against his ribs, hearing Frank Sinatra's voice growing louder as he got closer to the rink. What if Gabriel was down there? What if the archangel was dressed up as Santa, skating like a Olympian champion on the ice? God, just the thought was enough to make Sam smile. And though he was enjoying his current buzz, Sam wished that he could understand _why_. Why was he feeling this way? Why was he running, and smiling, and acting like an excited child? Why did he feel so nervous and joyous at the same time? Why did it feel like his heart was dancing in his chest and hummingbird wings were flapping in his stomach?

Through the confusion of his emotions, Sam finally made it to the edge of the ice skating rink. He dashed up to peer over the glass railing, letting his eyes travel from the large, glistening tree and golden statue down into the deep pit of ice. Nearby Christmas lights were giving the whole place a heavenly, soft glow – and there, placed in the very middle of the flat surface, was a couch.

And Gabriel was comfortably seated there.

Sam blinked slowly, feeling his own smile slip into an look of genuine awe. There he was! Gabriel was lounging on a comfy-looking couch in the middle of an ice skating rink as if it was a normal thing to do. It looked like he was bundled up pretty nicely, wearing warm clothes and an extra long scarf. Even though Sam was standing a few yards above him, he was still able to see the look of total smugness on the archangel's face. Gabriel was grinning up at Sam from below with twinkling eyes as he raised his hand to wave.

“Hey there, kiddo,” he called, his voice echoing up through the rink over the sound of Christmas music, “It's about time you showed up. I was starting to think that I was gonna have to put out an amber alert for you.”

Sam only blinked again in return. Holy shit. It really _was_ Gabriel. Gabriel was the one responsible for the mistletoe. Sam _knew_ that archangel was still alive! _He knew it_! Although Sam was rejoicing in his head, his body was frozen with shock. He could only stand there with large eyes and stare down at Gabriel as the music played, unable to even breathe properly.

After seeing Gabriel for the second time, everything suddenly made sense. _Of course_ , Sam wanted Gabriel to be alive. _Of course_ , he wanted Gabriel to ruin his Christmas. Sam wanted Gabriel to be responsible for the mistletoe because he wanted Gabriel to _be in his life_. Seeing the childlike mischief in Gabriel's golden eyes and hearing the unrelenting happiness in his playful voice actually made Sam _feel good_. And there weren't many people that could do that. Dean, Bobby, Cas – they were all as precious as gold to Sam, but they couldn't make him feel _this_ way; like love-sick puppy who had birds in his stomach. The only other person that made Sam feel _this_ way was Jessica...

Sam forced down a gulp at his sudden epiphany, feeling a little dazed. Oh. _Oh_. It wasn't guilt that made Sam crave to see Gabriel. It wasn't pain, or loss, or regret... It was _love_. Sam was _in love_ , for the first time in a long time. He hadn't felt it in so long that he had mistaken it for something else. But, now he knew for sure that he was feeling it again – that he had a _crush_ on someone again.  On _Gabriel_...

While Sam was busy trying to come to terms with his own personal discovery, Gabriel stood up from the couch. He was wearing regular tennis shoes but he was standing perfectly still on the ice. Sam blinked down at the golden haired archangel, watching his smile grow.

“Are you gonna come down here or what, Sammy-boy?” he called, “It's cold and I could really use some help getting warm.”

Sam wanted to smile but he still couldn't figure out how to move. It took him a few extra seconds to gather his courage before he forced his legs to work again. He started to walk down the stairs to get to the rink, still holding all of the stuff from the list. Dickie was following him closely as he went, still trying his damnedest to get to Mr. Jingles. When Sam headed toward the entrance of the rink, Gabriel started walking – literally _walking_ on ice without slipping or falling – over to meet him there. Sam's eyes remained glued to the archangel the entire time, enjoying how handsome the soft lighting made him look. The two of them met at the open gate, pausing to stare at each other in close range.

“Ah! You got all the stuff. Good,” Gabriel grinned, “Come on, let's take it over here.”

Sam had a million questions that he wanted to ask, such as, ' _Why did you make me go and get all this stuff?_ ' and ' _Why did you disappear back at the mall?_ ' and ' _Why did you give me this damn mistletoe in the first place?_ ' But his questions remained tucked in the back of his mind as he watched Gabriel gesture toward the couch across the rink. Sam blinked between the comfy couch and the trickster, feeling confused. How was Sam supposed to get over there without wearing ice skates?

“Come on, Rudolph, don't be afraid,” Gabriel reassured.

Although he was still a little confused, Sam took a small breath before raising his leg to place a single foot on the ice. He figured that if Gabriel could walk on it without falling, that maybe he could too. But he was sorely mistaken. The moment Sam tried to hold his own weight over the ice, he immediately slipped. The man wobbled around violently before grabbing the first thing nearest to him – which happened to be Gabriel's shoulder. Sam gulped again, feeling his face flush with heat. Oh, shit. He was _touching_ him! Luckily, Gabriel only giggled at Sam's futile efforts to walk on the ice.

“Ha! You look _just_ like a newborn baby moose trying to walk for the first time,” the archangel grinned.

Heat blazed hotter across Sam's face. Gabriel had reached up to loop Sam's arm around his own, holding it tightly in place as if Sam was an old lady that he was about to help cross the street.

“Come on, moosie. I'll get you there,” Gabriel cooed, “'Tis the season of charity, after all.”

Sam clung tightly to Gabriel's arm with both hands as the archangel started to lead him across the ice to the couch. Oh, man, Gabriel's arm was so warm. And the sugary scent of holiday peppermint was wafting from his entire form. Sam's eyes were unable to look away from the archangel as he struggled to remain steady on his feet during their walk. Snowflakes were speckled all over Gabriel's head, giving his soft blonde hair a halo of winter weather...

Questions were still fogging up Sam's head as he stumbled his way across the ice. He wanted so desperately to know why Gabriel had done all of this and what it was all for. But he was also in awe of Gabriel's presence. The archangel's steps were as steady as a beating drum on the ice. How was he moving without falling? Was it magic or something? Even Dickie was slipping and sliding next to them. The poor little dog was falling over himself, trying to keep up.

The song that had been playing quietly changed to 'Santa Baby' by the time Sam and Gabriel made it to the couch. Once they were close enough, Sam let go of the archangel's arm in order to fall onto the soft cushions. The man's weight was just enough to make the couch begin to slide across the ice. Sam clung to the furniture as it moved, watching all the lights start to swirl around him. Gabriel gave another small chuckle before racing up to hop on the couch with Sam. The small sofa continued to glide over the slick surface, making Sam feel like he was on board a carnival ride.

“Nothing like the smell of fresh ice to give you that ol' Christmas feeling, eh, kid?” Gabriel asked, turning to look up into Sam's eyes.

Sam was still unable to locate his voice. For a minute, he was lost in the archangel's golden stare and barely able to think. Fresh ice? Sam couldn't smell fresh ice. The only thing he could smell, was the wonderful scent of sweet peppermint coming from Gabriel's attire. After taking a quick bracing breath, Sam closed his eyes for a second to try and get a grip on his current situation. ' _Okay, you've found him. You found your Secret Santa. Stop smelling him. Stop starting at him. Focus_ ,' the logical voice in his head reminded, ' _You've been through a ton of shit today! You had to kiss tons of people all because of him! Start asking questions, dammit! Talk! Speak! Use words!'_

“Why did you make me get all of this stuff?” Sam blurted, his eyes fly open again, “and why _the hell_ did you give me this damn mistletoe?”

Gabriel turned on the moving couch to face Sam, sliding one of his short legs up onto the cushions to rest comfortably. Sam couldn't help but look into Gabriel's golden eyes again and see the absolute joy in them. God, the guy looked so damn _happy_ ; like he had been dying to see Sam all day...

“Well, first of all, you should know that... Mr. Jingles is actually a gift for my dog. I was busy, you know, being Santa and all, and I couldn't get it myself... Do you think we should go ahead and give it to him?” Gabriel grinned.

Sam blinked, feeling confused. Mr. Jingles was a gift? For Dickie? No wonder the dog liked him so much! Gabriel carefully reached forward to pluck the stuffed moose out of the bend of Sam's arm and gently shook the plush toy a few times, making the bells on his antlers jingle across the rink. Dickie's head popped up from the ice and he tried his best to scurry closer, still falling over his own paws. Sam smiled a little at the dog's excited efforts. Aw, he really wanted that stuffed animal...

“Here you go, boy! Merry Christmas! Have fun! You've earned it,” Gabriel called, tossing the stuffed moose toward the dog.

Mr. Jingles slid far across the ice and Dickie instantly chased after him, slipping and sliding all the way. Sam's smile grew to light up his whole face. That poor moose didn't stand a chance against Dickie's furious humping – if the dog could ever catch him, that is. Sam's sight eventually wandered back to Gabriel's face, where the archangel was already staring at him. Christmas lights were twinkling in the amber orbs of his eyes, as their couch gently spun around the rink. Man, Gabriel was so nice to look at. Why hadn't Sam noticed it before?

Both of Gabriel's small hands were reaching toward Sam, all of the sudden. One of them rose high up to grab the quilt from his shoulder and carefully tug it away while the other dove into his jacket pocket to retrieve the bottle of whiskey. Shit, Gabriel was just casually reaching into Sam's pocket like it was no big deal. But it _was_ a big deal! The feeling of Gabriel's small fingers wiggling so close to Sam's body was causing the man's stomach to do flip-flops. Sam's heart was pounding with nervousness by the time the archangel held the quilt and the bottle of whiskey up for display.

“The other two things are for you and me,” Gabriel admitted, wearing a sneaky grin.

Sam attempted to gulp down the nervous feeling rising in his throat as he watched Gabriel start to unfold the quilt. Wait, what? The blanket and the whiskey were for _them_? But why? How? Sam's questions seemed to be answered when Gabriel began to fan the blanket out, softly laying the warm fabric over both of their laps. Sam blinked down at the hand-stitched cloth, seeing it draped over his own legs _and_ Gabriel's. Holy shit! They were sharing the _same_ blanket! Sam could feel Gabriel's body heat mixing with his own under the soft fabric and it made his cheeks burn hot again.

Christmas music was still humming in the background when Sam raised his eyes to look at Gabriel. The smirk on the archangel's face grew as he raised his hand to snap his fingers together. Two empty crystal glasses suddenly appeared on the couch with them, lined up next to each other near the groove of the cushions. Sam was frozen once again, unable to function as he watched Gabriel crack the lid off the whiskey and start filling the glasses with the pungent amber liquid from inside. God, Sam felt like he had fallen into a dream. Here he was, about to drink whiskey with the trickster on a couch in the middle of Rockefeller Center on Christmas eve. What the hell was this? Was this – a _date_ or something?!

“You know, Sammy-boy, I honestly thought you were going to show up here with an angel blade,” Gabriel said smoothly as he held a glass of alcohol toward Sam, “You're acting a lot calmer than I thought you'd be.”

Sam nervously cleared his throat as he took the glass of whiskey into his trembling hand. The amber liquid instantly began to slosh around in the glass. ' _Calm down_ ,' the voice in his head said, ' _this isn't a date. You're here to get answers, not pick-up lines. Relax._ '

“Well...” Sam started, pausing to take a tiny sip of burning alcohol, “I, um, I _did_ have a pretty rough day. I mean, some old grandma shoved her tongue down my throat and everything... But I knew it was you the whole time. I didn't come here to hurt you. I just...”

Sam's voice trailed off, seeing that Gabriel's eyes were softening at his words. It was like Gabriel wasn't expecting to hear them, but was secretly grateful anyway. Still, Sam wanted to understand why the trickster had turned his day into a Christmas nightmare.

“I just hate this damn mistletoe,” the man finished, pausing to flash a glare at the plant dangling above his head, “Why did you even give it to me, huh? Were you using it to teach me a lesson like you did with the Mystery Spot? Or was this just something fun for you to do like that stupid TV land thing? Because I'll tell you one thing, Gabriel, this so-called 'gift' sucks ass.”

The archangel took a moment to chuckle a bit, letting his head fall back to fill the place with laughter. Sam smiled a little a the lovely sound as it bounced around the empty rink. Gabriel's honey eyes eventually returned to Sam's though, as he took a quick sip of his own whiskey.

“First of all, kid, please call me Gabe. It's a lot easier to say and sounds way less annoying than 'Gabriel,'” he grinned, “Secondly –”

The archangel's sentence was suddenly interrupted by a fit of ringing bells. Sam and Gabriel both looked across the rink toward the sound to see that Dickie had finally gotten hold of Mr. Jingles. The bells sewn into the poor moose's antlers were jingling while the dog gave its backside pure hell. Sam shook his head at the sight of Dickie 'playing' with his new toy. Well, at least someone was having a good Christmas...

A warm hand was suddenly resting on Sam's own and the man instantly tilted his head down to see it. Gabriel had reached over to lay his tiny hand there, gently touching Sam in an effort to get his attention. And, boy, did it work. Sam couldn't look anywhere but at Gabriel now, frozen once again by surprise and nervousness. The archangel was wearing a slightly more serious expression and the soft glow of the Christmas lights only made him appear more genuine.

“Secondly,” he said again, his tone much deeper and firm, “I have to make a confession. You see... the mistletoe wasn't exactly your gift...”

Sam's eyebrows narrowed a little as he stared down at Gabriel's smile. What? The mistletoe wasn't his gift? But the Christmas card said that it was...

“It's not?” Sam prompted, feeling confused.

“No,” Gabriel replied, his smile growing, “The gift I wanted to give you this year, Sam, was _love_.”

Sam blinked a few times, trying to let his mind process what he was hearing. Love? Love was an emotion, not a gift. How the hell could Gabriel have possibly given Sam love? Gabriel must have seen the look of utter confusion on Sam's face because he quickly continued.

“The mistletoe was just the device I used to give it to you,” he explained, gesturing to the thing over Sam's head, “I wanted to show you how precious you are and how much people care about you, because you're awesome, Sammy-boy. Seriously, I think you're the most intelligent, caring, heroic, lovable person in the whole wide world, kid. So I just gave everyone a slight nudge in your direction and made them see you the way _I_ see you. Which is undeniably, irresistibly _kissable_.”

Sam could feel the heat radiating from his own cheeks as Gabriel rambled on. Whoa. He never knew that the trickster actually _liked_ him, let alone liked him enough to say all of those wonderful things... Gabriel leaned a little closer on the couch, bringing his eyes close to Sam's face as if he was inspecting it.

“I wanted you be kissed _a lot_ today, so I rigged the mistletoe to come down after you got one hundred kisses. But it looks like you only got – one, two, three – ninety-nine,” Gabriel counted, sighing dramatically afterward, “Yep. You've only gotten ninety-nine. Well, I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but that mistletoe ain't coming down until you get to a hundred.”

Sam's heart was beating fast in his chest while he took in this news. So, he had to kiss one more person? That didn't seem too bad. Gabriel inched even closer on the couch – so close that his legs were touching Sam's under the quilt – as he smirked playfully up at Sam.

“I'll tell you what, Rudolph,” Gabriel grinned, “Since you've had such a horrible day, I'll let you pick the last person you have to kiss. Go ahead. Take a good look around. If you see anyone that you want to kiss, you're more than welcome to go and kiss them.”

A genuine smile inched across Sam's face. There wasn't a single person to be found anywhere in Rockefeller Center. There was no one else in the immediate area except for Sam and Gabriel. And even if there _was_ someone else, Sam wouldn't be able to get to them unless he crawled across the slippery ice. And as he sat staring down at the trickster's smirk, it slowly dawned on Sam – that Gabriel had done this _on purpose_. He had gotten rid of all the other people and virtually trapped Sam in an ice rink _intentionally_. For some reason, Gabriel actually _wanted_ to kiss Sam...

And as strange as it seemed, Sam wanted to kiss Gabriel, too...

As 'Baby It's Cold Outside' started playing softly in the background, Sam carefully wedged his glass of whiskey into the groove of the couch cushions. Once both of his hands were free, he slowly reached up to take hold of Gabriel's face, cupping both sides of Gabe's warm head and letting his fingers dive into the silk strands of the archangel's blonde hair. Sam's heart was hammering fiercely against his ribs, pumping adrenaline through his veins, as he began to lean down. For the first time all day, Sam was actually looking forward to meeting his lips to someone else's. He briefly caught the look of honest surprise on Gabriel's face before he closed his eyes and brought their lips together.

Sam hummed a little bit behind their joined mouths as he let his lips part open. Ah, Gabriel's mouth was so much warmer and softer than all the others had been. And thankfully, it didn't taste like gross denture cream, either. On the contrary, Gabriel's mouth actually tasted kind of _sweet_ ; like cotton candy mixed with peppermint. Sam's hands slid around to cradle the back of the archangel's soft head as he deepened their kiss to swirl his tongue around Gabe's. Oh, man, this was the best kiss ever. Sam never wanted it to end...

After a few moments – or was it an hour? Maybe two? – Sam eventually pulled his mouth away to breathe, taking a generous gulp of Gabriel's potent aroma. He was glad to see the look of pure bliss on Gabriel's face. The guy was lazily batting his eyelashes and grinning like an idiot, acting like a fool in love. Sam was oddly proud to be responsible for putting that expression on Gabe's face.

“Wow,” the archangel swooned, “Dickie was right. Moose _are_ the best kissers.”

Sam gave a small chuckle at Gabriel's ridiculous statement, feeling his own blush deepen. As the man and the archangel sat giggling on the couch, something fell between them. Sam's eyes instantly dropped to his lap – where he saw the mistletoe lying on the quilt. It seemed like Gabriel had been telling the truth, because the Christmas decoration came down the moment Sam and Gabriel's lips parted. Sam shook his head a little as he picked up the tiny bunch of leaves and twirled them between his fingers. All that fuss, all those horrible kisses, over this tiny plant. Well, at least Sam could safely go around Dean and Cas again.

“Dean's gonna be very happy that this is gone,” Sam mentioned.

He didn't miss that a slight hint of mischief sneaked across Gabriel's features after his statement. The archangel sat up straight on the couch and looked around, causing his shaggy blonde hair to catch more snowflakes.

“Huh. Speaking of non-believers, where is he?” Gabe asked.

Sam shrugged as he tossed the mistletoe over his shoulder. He didn't know where his brother was. Come to think of it, Sam didn't know where Cas was either. They two of them just took off when they arrived. But it seemed like Gabriel wasn't pleased with this answer – and he knew just what to do about it. The archangel simply raised his hand and snapped his fingers again. The spinning couch carefully drew to a stop after the sound and Dean and Cas appeared in front of it on the ice.

And it seemed like they were right in the middle of making out.

Sam's eyes blew wide at the sight of his brother and Cas. The two of them were literally tonguing each other and pulling at their clothes, acting as though they had been doing it for awhile before Gabriel had ever snapped his fingers to bring them to the rink. After a second of being on the ice, Dean and Cas both lost their footing and slipped, grabbing each other as they fell down. Sam blinked toward the heap of them on the ice, feeling utterly shocked. Son of a bitch! Dean and Cas had been kissing somewhere just now! _Without the mistletoe_!

Gabriel laughed out loud as Dean and Cas struggled to regain their barrings. Once they were sitting up on the ice, they caught sight of the archangel sitting next to Sam and they both nearly gasped. Dean's mouth was hanging open and Cas's eyes were bright with surprise.

“Gabriel?” the angel breathed.

“Y – you're alive!” Dean growled, sounding angrily shocked.

“Of course I'm alive, dilhole,” Gabriel smirked, “You should listen to your brother more often. Now, as for what you were doing with Cas just now, let me guess... You two just got caught up in the 'heat of the moment,' right?”

Dean didn't reply to Gabriel's question. He only shared a bashful glance with Cas and nervously scratched the back of his head. Sam couldn't stop the chuckle that fell out of his mouth. Good Lord, Dean actually liked kissing Cas, didn't he? Why didn't Sam see it before? No wonder Dean had been such a jerk today! He only did it so that Sam would make him kiss Cas again...

“Alright, love-birds,” Gabriel said, maneuvering his way off of the couch, “It's Christmas eve and you need to be with your family. Come on, I'll help you up. Get over here and share this quilt with me and the kid. I'll get you some whiskey.”

The smile on Sam's mouth was taking up most of his face as he watched Gabriel help Dean and Cas stand up and get to the comfy couch. Sam scooted closer to one end as his brother plopped down beside him. Cas fell into the seat next to Dean while Gabriel swiftly sat back down next to Sam. Even Dickie made his way over to jump onto the couch, carrying Mr. Jingles in his mouth the whole time. Sam welcomed the dog and let the little guy sit close to him.

As Gabriel took the time to fan the quilt out over everyone's laps, Sam couldn't help but feel extra warm on the inside. Ah, this was so nice; to be surrounded by everyone he loved on Christmas eve. And in Rockefeller Center, to top it all off. This was a perfect ending to the weirdest day ever...

“Hey, did you say something about whiskey?” Dean asked, looking over at Gabriel, “'Cause, boy lemme tell you, after the day I've had, I could really -”

“The day _you've_ had?” Sam interrupted, grinning, “The only thing you did today was make out with Cas!”

“Oh, so _you_ can kiss the _entire free world_ with no repercussions, but when _I_ so much as give Cas a _peck on the cheek_ -”

“You did not peck my cheek, Dean,” Cas interrupted, sounding confused, “Your tongue penetrated my mouth repeatedly in the same manner that lovers exhibit during intercourse -”

“Alright, that's enough,” Gabriel spoke up, holding a few new glasses of whiskey, “There will be no more talk of intercourse on the Savior's birthday, okay? That's inappropriate. Now here, drink some alcohol and be merry.”

Sam gave a slight chuckle as Gabriel handed Dean and Cas their own drinks. Once they had hold of their glasses, the couch began to gently move around the rink again, slowly spinning and winding over the ice. Sam was glad to see the smiles on his brother and Cas's faces as they rode around on the couch. They looked genuinely happy, for once. And Sam couldn't have been anymore glad.

Sam flinched a little at the sudden sensation of fingers in his hair. His head spun around to look at Gabriel next to him and saw that the archangel had reached up to curl some of Sam's hair behind his ear. The man blushed again, seeing the Christmas lights sparkle in Gabe's golden eyes. He was wearing that signature smirk of his again and looked oh-so perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Sam,” he nearly whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

Sam's grin dimmed into a softer smile as he reached over to place his hand on the archangel's warm thigh. After a long day of being kissed by strangers and told that he was crazy, Sam was glad to see that he had always been right. Gabriel was here to stay and it was the best present Sam could have ever hoped for...

“Merry Christmas, Gabe,” Sam uttered quietly, letting his smile grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Merry Christmas! (In July. Lol.) ;D I really hope you guys enjoyed this little Sabriel fluff I made a few years ago... This is going to sound strange – and it's probably too much information – but I was going through a _very_ difficult time when this was written. My mom died suddenly when I was between writing chapters one and two of this story and I literally used this fic to cope with my grief. (The first stage of grief, anyway. Remember when Sam was denying Gabe's death? I was denying my mom's at the same time.) I've come along way in the two years since this was first written and I'm slowly coming to terms with it, but revising this story made me realize how much of a comfort Sam and Gabriel – and the whole fandom – were during that hard time. And how grateful I am to have these amazing characters in my life. I owe a lot to Supernatural. And you guys, who read my stories. Thank you!  <3
> 
>  **Up next** : I'll be starting to post my Destiel mpreg fic! :D This story is four parts long so far and once they're posted, I'll be all caught up. Which means I'll be able to post the newest updates to FF.net and here at the same time. :) I'll get to work revising 'Purpose' soon. Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting! See you soon. <3


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